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Rx Libris 


20 Kensington Square, London, W.8 

The Cardinal Democrat 

Henry Edward Manning 

The Cardinal 

Henry Edward Manning 




Homo sum et human! nihil a me alienum 







Introductory I 


Appointed Archbishop of Westminster Social Sympathies 
Beginning Work Memorial to Cardinal Wiseman 
Educational Projects - - 17 


The Archbishop s Methods Loneliness A Fireman on 
Duty Aspirations for his Flock His Ideal of a Bishop 
Characteristics - 39 


Breach with Mr. Gladstone the Vatican Decrees Death 
of the Archbishop of Paris the Agricultural Labourer s 
Union Lecture on the Dignity and Rights of Labour 
Varied Work 55 


Elevation to the Cardinalate Manning s Position in Eng 
land Poverty of the Church his Financial Position - 77 


Temperance Work the United Kingdom Alliance 
Development of Cardinal Manning s Views Total 
Abstinence - - 87 


Consistency Manning and the Temporal Power Early 
Views Change of Opinion Regret at the Policy of 
the Vatican - - - - - no 




The Cardinal s Attitude towards the Irish Question Letter 
to Lord Grey Gradual Change in his Opinions 
He becomes an Advocate of Home Rule His Rela 
tions with Irish Members Monsignor Persico s Mission 1 19 


Increasing Age Multiplicity of Interests The Cardinal s 

Visitors Henry George - 141 


The Social Purity Crusade Trafalgar Square Riot The 

Cardinal s Opinion of the Government - -154 


Later Writings Their Character Views on the Work of 
the Salvation Army Plea for the Worthless Irre 
sponsible Wealth 163 


The Knights of Labour Cardinal Manning s Interposition 
Labour Questions in England The Law of Nature 
Manning s Influence at the Vatican Interest in 
French Affairs Leo xin. s Encyclical on Labour - 178 


The Dockers Strike - . . 195 


Split in the Irish Party Manning s Attitude His Fore 
castsInterview with M. Boyer d Agen - 223 


The End Approaching Farewells The Cardinal s Jubilee 

Congratulations Last Months Death His Funeral 230 




Miscellanies. H. E. Manning. 3 Vols. 

The Letters of Thirty-five Years. Edited by J. Oldcastle 

La Question Ouvriere et Sociale. Preface de Boyer d Agen 

The Temperance Speeches of Cardinal Manning. Edited, with 
a Preface, by C. Kegan Paul 

Cardinal Manning. J. R. Gasquet 

Cardinal Manning. A. W. Hutton 

Le Cardinal Manning et son Action Sociale. J. Lemire 

1 Le Cardinal Manning. F. de Pressense 

1 Memorials of Cardinal Manning. J. Oldcastle 

Life of Henry Edward Manning, Cardinal Archbishop of West 
minster. E. S. Purcell 

Contemporary Newspapers and Magazines 



IT is forty-two years since Henry Edward Manning 
was consecrated Archbishop of Westminster and 
took up his great and special work in London a 
work which has been called the consolidation of 
Catholicism on a democratic basis. Twenty-seven 
years later that work, so far as he was concerned, 
was done ; the tireless brain had ceased to labour, 
the busy hands were at rest. But not before a 
great achievement had been accomplished. He 
had gained the hearts of his countrymen ; he had 
overcome their prejudices ; he had been accepted 
as the recognized ally of the section of the nation 
whose trust and affection he valued most. He 
was the good Cardinal of the working man. 

There are maxims, constantly repeated as 
truisms, so false that it seems strange that they 

should ever have become embedded in the human 



mind ; yet centuries may be necessary before they 
can be eradicated. There are verities writ so large 
that it would almost appear that men could not 
choose but read them ; yet hundreds of years may 
pass before their claim to practical acceptance is 

Such a truth is the identity of Christian and 
democratic principles a truth perfunctorily and 
theoretically acknowledged, but disallowed in any 
true sense by the majority of the friends and foes 
of religion alike. It is a truth obscured and veiled 
by the action of those who have again and again 
made of the Christian Church an instrument and 
tool of oppression, have striven to turn it to their 
own profit ; who have employed it in the interests of 
a class or a party, and have succeeded in partially 
masking its character and nature. 

* By a singular concurrence of events, says 
Tocqueville, religion is entangled in those insti 
tutions which democracy assails, and it is not 
unfrequently brought to reject the equality it 
loves, and to curse that liberty as a foe which it 
might hallow by its alliance. 

But, in spite of all, facts remain unchanged. 
Nor can it be denied that a body admitting 
unconditionally and in their most absolute form, 
the principles of equality and brotherhood ; know- 


ing no distinctions of caste or class ; bound by no 
restrictions of nationality or race ; whose hierarchy 
owes nothing to birth or blood, and whose supreme 
ruler may be the son of a peasant or of a beggar, 
is, in theory, constitution, and essence, a demo 
cratic organisation. There was one scheme, said 
Mr. Ben Tillett, speaking of current methods 
of dealing with latter day social problems, which 
had been invented for 1900 years but never 
tried. It was that contained in the Sermon on 
the Mount. 

The same principles find diverse expression 
according to the needs and necessities of age, 
atmosphere, and environment ; according, too, to 
the development of the civilisation upon which 
they are to work. At a time when the ultimate 
triumph of the democracy may be said to be 
assured, it becomes increasingly important to show 
that Christianity is its friend, not its foe ; and that 
even though called upon, like Balaam, to curse, it 
has nothing but a blessing to give. 

Some men have set their hands to this work ; 
have striven, and are striving still, to bring home to 
the comprehension of the struggling masses the 
fact, that the Church is not the Church of the few, 
but of the multitude ; that its interests are not, as 
it sometimes has been made to appear, the interests 


of a class, but of humanity ; to render the words 
of St. Paul a reality, and to prove that, in its eyes, 
all are equal, that there is neither Jew nor Gentile, 
bond or free. 

There have been moments when it seemed that 
success was within the grasp of these workers 
times such as that, all too short, when Pius IX. 
reviled by reactionists as the head of revolution in 
Europe stood out temporarily as the recognized 
leader of those who sought, here below, a better 
country ; or when Leo xill. took up the cause of 
the labourers of the world ; or when, in England, 
Henry Edward Manning, the head of the Roman 
Catholic Church in this country, came forward, 
reckless of the hostility evoked by his action, as 
the representative of democratic aspirations, and 
joined, without distinction of class or creed, with 
all engaged in fighting the battles of the weapon 
less crowd and in pleading the cause of the mute 
or the hopeless. 

We did not look upon him as the Cardinal/ 
said a London workman we looked upon him as 
our friend. It is as the friend of the working man, 
the defender of the weak, the pleader to use his 
own words for the worthless, that he will be 
represented here. This aspect of his life and work 
must necessarily occupy, if an important, yet a 


subordinate part in the biographies dealing with 
the career, as a whole, of the Cardinal Archbishop 
of Westminster ; 1 and notwithstanding the lives 
already in existence, it may be that there is room 
for a study exclusively concerned with his labours, 
not as a Prince of the Church, or in connection 
with ecclesiastical and doctrinal affairs, but as the 
friend and advocate of the poor and the helpless, 
the Cardinal democrat. 

The position he occupied was novel and in a 
measure unique. In a paper printed in the 
Nouvelle Revue at his death, his attitude and aims 
were described by a foreign critic. To break with 
dynasties and concordats ; to get outside historical 
traditions ; to go to the people ; to apply the words 
of the Christ, I have pity upon the multitude ; to 
direct and favour democracy such is the account 
there given of his ideal. * If the holy See and the 
Church, added the sanguine writer, are upon the 
point of opening the social and democratic era, it 
is to Cardinal Manning that the honour of having 
hastened this change is due. As man, Bishop, 

1 In Mr. Purcell s Life, for example, the chapter devoted to 
nearly twenty years of the Cardinal s work as philanthropist and 
political and social reformer, occupies no more than eighty-five 
pages ; whereas the account of the proceedings and intrigues, of 
wholly ephemeral interest, concerning the appointment of a suc 
cessor to Cardinal Wiseman, extend to some two hundred. 


Cardinal, and social reformer, this is his dis 
tinguishing characteristic in history. 

The passage correctly defines the position held 
by the Cardinal, not only in England, but in Europe 
and America. Were I not Cardinal Archbishop 
of Westminster, he once said, I could find it in me 
to be a demagogue. He was not a demagogue. 
He has been ticketed with various names, has been 
claimed by different factions ; but he belonged to 
no one political organisation, committed himself 
to no political sect. Again and again he emphati 
cally denied that he was attached to either of the 
great rival parties in the state. I have no party 
politics, he wrote as early as 1866, but would 
oppose both parties, or support either when they 
act justly to the holy See and to our poor. 

These words give the key to his attitude through 
out ; inconsistent or varying in much else, con 
sistent in this. God and the poor to him service 
of the one implied care and solicitude for the 
other, and in his eyes the two great gospel pre 
cepts were indissolubly blended and united. His 
politics, he explained twenty-four years later, when, 
his career nearly over and his accounts made up, 
he was taking a general review of his position, 
past and present, were social politics; and he 
prayed God that whosoever should succeed him 


in his office might renounce politics and parties, 
supporting or opposing them in absolute inde 

The independence he desired for his successor 
he was resolute in asserting on his own behalf, and 
it was acknowledged on all hands. As to Cardinal 
Manning, Lord Salisbury once said, describing 
the opinions of the members of some Royal Com 
mission, no one can say what party he is of/ 
When asked what position he would have preferred 
to fill had he not occupied his own, he is quoted 
as replying that he would have chosen to be candi 
date for Marylebone in the radical interest. But 
the radical party would have found him a trouble 
some and insubordinate accession. Nor would he 
have been a more submissive member of any other 
political faction. Whig and Tory he always used 
the old nomenclature alike represented in his eyes 
different forms of class selfishness, the one aristo 
cratic, the other well to do, and from both he held 
resolutely aloof. 

Yet he drew a distinction. With the Tories he 
was naturally in less sympathy than with their 
opponents. Toryism was the traditional strong 
hold of privilege. It was the upholder of mono 
polies and of tyrannies, the obstructor of legis 
lation designed to ameliorate the condition of 


the poor, and, as such, he was its vowed and 
open antagonist, ready, save on exceptional occa 
sions, to throw the weight of his influence into the 
scale against it. Nevertheless he had no liking 
for a destructive policy, and his respect for law, 
when it coincided with justice, his reverence for 
the English constitution, was great. Free from 
pledges or from engagements, he was from first to 
last avowedly on the side of any party and every 
party capable of being used as a means to better 
the condition of the labouring millions, the foe of 
every party adverse to such measures. Political 
institutions, political aims and objects, were of 
infinitely less consequence in his eyes than the 
great social problems. 

Such is my radicalism/ he said, * going down 
to the roots of the sufferings of the people. It 
was the sufferings of the people, the people s 
wrongs, and the people s needs, which made him 
what he was, and what he prayed that whosoever 
should succeed to his office might likewise be. 

Judging each question as it arose upon its 
merits and independently, it follows that he fre 
quently laid himself open to that charge of incon 
sistency to which those men are liable who accept 
one article of a party creed and reject others, 
approve one item in a political or social pro- 


gramme and withhold their approbation from 
another. He did not, in the current and significant 
phrase, adopt a complete set of opinions ready 
made ; he selected his own, and where a formula 
commonly found in conjunction with others con 
flicted with his sense of justice or right, he refused 
it a place on the list. 

Nor is it possible to deny that, as time went by, 
his views on certain subjects underwent a change. 
He would not have been concerned to apologise 
for the fact To be incapable of changing an 
opinion is to have lost the power of learning from 
life and experience. To be ashamed of avowing 
a change of opinion is to play the part of a moral 
coward. Manning, open-eyed and open-minded 
to the last, was always ready to acknowledge that 
he had miscalculated forces at work, and to re 
arrange his plans and his hopes on a fresh and 
more solid basis. 

His attitude towards public affairs having been 
described, it remains, before entering upon a 
detailed study of his work, to examine into the 
causes and influences which had made him what 
he was. 

The line of conduct he pursued was of course 
primarily the result of the nature and character of 
the man, large-hearted, wide-minded, pre-eminently 


pitiful of suffering and wrong, and with the power 
of co-operation arising from imaginative sympathy 
and the faculty of understanding and respecting 
convictions he did not share. But other factors 
had contributed to shape his course. 

His father was a Tory, and birth and training 
would have naturally prepared the son to follow in 
his steps. Instinctively, however, he rejected the 
political creed of his family. By him, as boy and 
afterwards as man, equality before God was not 
only an axiom theoretically and perfunctorily 
admitted, but was consciously and imperatively 
felt. This sense of equality was strengthened 
and accentuated by the public school life of 
Harrow in his opinion a great leveller ; and as 
time went on the instinctive intuitions of the boy 
became the deliberate judgments of the man. 
Harrow was no more than one element in the 
training supplied by his early years. Oxford 
followed, continuing or inaugurating intercourse 
with men destined to set their mark upon their 
generation ; whilst before he had finally decided 
upon a clerical career he had passed some months 
as a clerk in the Colonial Office, and had had the 
opportunity of becoming acquainted with London 

In comparing the work he accomplished with 


that achieved by others, it should consequently be 
remembered that he was unhandicapped, as 
philanthropist and reformer, by the disadvantages 
necessarily attaching, by education and tradition, 
to many of his co-religionists, lay and ecclesiastical. 
Upon the counterbalancing advantages enjoyed by 
those upon whom no breach with their past has 
been incumbent, and who can look back upon a 
career at one with itself, it is not necessary to 
dwell ; but it is fair to bear in mind that Manning 
was exempt from the disabilities and difficulties of 
men bred in the inevitably narrowing atmosphere 
of a minority, and embittered and alienated from 
the national life by the recollection of centuries of 
ostracism and injustice. To the great position he 
was to hold in the Catholic Church, he united the 
formative influences of a boyhood and early man 
hood spent in touch and in sympathy with the 
mass of the nation to which he belonged. 

Religion joined hands with life to impress upon 
him the same principles. Whilst, at the Political 
Economy Club, he was listening to the discus 
sions of such men as Whately, Grote, Tooke, 
and others, he was comparing their conclusions 
with those to be drawn from the Scriptures. 
Moses, he would afterwards say in jest, had 
made him a Radical ; the Hebrew theocracy 


was a true republic ; monarchy a revolt and a 
chastisement Later on, he drew support from the 
saying of St. Thomas Aquinas that God gave 
sovereignty immediately to the people, mediately 
to Prince, President, or Consul. Throughout the 
future Cardinal s life, his principles as democratic 
and social reformer were closely linked and 
associated with his convictions as Christian and 

What sacred history taught, secular history con 
firmed. The historical and constitutional history 
of England, as he interpreted its records, con 
spired to place him, as ecclesiastic no less than 
as man, on the side of the people. In noting 
the growth of democratic convictions in Europe, 
Tocqueville ascribed the equality of conditions 
towards which society is tending chiefly to the 
action of the Catholic Church : * The clergy 
opened its ranks to all classes to the poor and 
to the rich, the villein and the lord ; equality 
penetrated into the Government through the 
Church, and the being who, as a serf, must have 
vegetated in perpetual bondage, took his place as 
a priest in the midst of nobles, and not unfrequently 
above the head of kings. The first duty of men 
in power was now to educate the democracy ; if 
possible, to warm its faith ; to purify its morals ; 


to direct its energies ; to instruct its inexperience ; 
and to adapt its government to fresh conditions. 
A new science of politics is indispensable to a 
new world. 

It is not without significance for those who 
would trace the genesis of the Cardinal s social 
faith, that these passages are found quoted by him 
as possibly in part responsible for the opinions of 
Frederic Ozanam ; and the ideals placed before 
Tocqueville s readers may not have been without 
a share in determining his own. He may, in 
truth, as an observer of his career has conjectured, 
have felt that he was standing at the opening of a 
new era an era to him, as to Frederick Robert 
son, full of hope and that to himself might be 
entrusted the work of leading the way in the 
reconciliation of the Church and the democracy. 
A teacher of a different school in theology, but 
holding convictions kindred to the Cardinal s on 
social matters, has hazarded the assertion that the 
development of democratic principles in the 
secular sphere involves a corresponding modifica 
tion of the religious ideal as understood in post- 
reformation times. Science, philosophy, and 
history, says Canon Scott Holland, have all con 
spired together to dismiss with ridicule the petty 
individualism which used to ascribe to the organisa- 


tion of the secular state a purely external and 
regulative function. Man and the State, no 
longer represented as opposed each to each, are 
seen to be the two correlative factors of a single 
process, which we call civilisation. 5 As indi 
vidualism in secular matters has given place to a 
wider and nobler conception of society, so in the 
spiritual realm individualistic forms of belief have 
become impossible. In the Church alone is an 
ideal realised corresponding to that towards which 
men s eyes are turning in the secular domain 
namely, the rights of citizenship in a great cor 
porate body co-extensive with civilised humanity 
itself. 1 

With, then, these objects and aims before him, 
bent also upon opening the ranks of those labour 
ing for the common welfare to Catholics, and 
demonstrating the fact that, differences of creed 
apart, the duties imposed on all members of 
the one commonwealth are the same, all belong 
ing equally to the one great national unity, 
Manning entered the community of English 
Catholics, a body described by a Scotchman as 
small, but varra respectable. Into it he brought 
fresh life, new standards of conduct and principles 
of activity ; gradually breaking down the barriers 

1 God s City. Canon H. Scott Holland. 


set up by ignorance and distrust on the one side ; 
by narrowness, jealousy, the habit of aloofness, 
and the remembrance of wrongs suffered and 
resented, on the other. This was, in the social 
domain, the great work he inaugurated and 
carried to so astonishing a degree of success. Of 
a different creed to the enormous majority of 
English working men, the chief representative of 
a Church they had regarded with dislike and 
suspicion, he proved to them that no man could 
have their interests more at heart than he, that none 
was more intimately and personally concerned 
in their welfare ; and was accepted by them, 
generously and freely, as their advocate and ally. 
In his relations with the poor, the labourers, and 
the helpless, as he strove to rescue them from 
poverty, from hardship, from injustice, and from 
sin, he stood in a measure alone. * The rich can 
take care of themselves, he wrote . . . but who 
can speak for the poor ? To speak for the poor 
was what he set himself to do, and for twenty-five 
years, as Archbishop first, and then as Cardinal, 
he performed his chosen office. Only once 
did he so far depart from his custom of per 
sonal non-interference in political matters as 
to vote for a Parliamentary candidate ; but 
outside Parliament he constituted himself the 


representative and the spokesman of those who 
were dumb. 

And the people were not ungrateful. They 
remembered and they forgot. They remembered 
his unwearied efforts upon their behalf, his anxious 
thought, his pleadings spoken and written, his 
fearlessness in braving public opinion, his dis 
regard of the protests of friends or counsellors 
where their opinions conflicted with his standard 
of right and his wider sympathies. And they 
forgot, or only remembered to ignore it, that he 
was a member of a body they had been taught to 
consider alien, and of a creed that the mass of his 
countrymen rejected. 


Appointed Archbishop of Westminster Social Sympathies 
Beginning Work Memorial to Cardinal Wiseman 
Educational Projects. 

ON Monday, May 8th, 1865, the announcement 
reached London that Henry Edward Manning 
had been nominated Archbishop of Westminster. 
A controversy has been waged over the methods 
by which an appointment distasteful to no incon 
siderable section of the English Catholic com 
munity, lay and clerical, was brought about, and 
Manning has been freely charged with connivance 
at least in the intrigues of his partisans. To 
enter into the merits of the discussion does not 
come within the compass of the present work. 
That he had earnestly desired the exclusion of 
incompetent persons, or of those he considered 
incompetent, from a great and responsible post is 
undoubtedly true. It was also probably the fact 
that he felt himself to be in some respects specially 
qualified to fill it a conviction fully justified by 
the event ; whilst in a man not exempt from 
human frailties, less worthy motives may have 

p 17 


had their share in shaping his wishes. But unless 
we are prepared to believe him capable of a 
deliberate falsehood, he had, up to the end of 
March, if not later, neither aimed at the promotion 
ultimately conferred upon him, desired it, nor con 
sidered it probable, reasonable, or imaginable that 
he would obtain it. 

When, however, it proved that it was his 
destiny to be placed at the head of the Catholic 
Church in England, there is no reason to doubt 
that he rejoiced. He has been accused of ambi 
tion, and in more senses than one it is possible 
that the accusation is just. If it were ambition, 
he once said in reference to a favourite taunt, to 
desire to see work done that ought to be done, as 
it ought to be done, and when ill done to be done 
better, without being the doer of it, so that it were 
done at all if it were ambition to be impatient 
when, with the evils and wants and miseries of the 
people before them, men did nothing, and if they 
would not work, to beg for permission to try to do 
the work himself if this were ambition, he hoped 
to die in it. 

The retort, with its hot impatience of inertia, its 
avowed desire to be up and doing, its transparent 
self-confidence, and its very human resentment, is 
characteristic both of the merits and of the failings 


of the writer. The ambition he described was at 
all events certainly his, and it may well have 
caused him knowing himself, his capacities and 
powers to rejoice at seeing the means of employ 
ing them to the best advantage placed in his hands. 
Manning was fifty-six when appointed to the 
Archbishopric of Westminster ; and, making his 
own reckoning, looked on to fifteen additional 
years of labour. Eleven more were, as it proved, 
to be added to the tale ; and those twenty-six 
years, with short intervals spent abroad, or on the 
northern tours he misnamed his holidays, were 
passed, at first in the house in York Place which 
had served as a residence to his predecessors, and 
afterwards in Archbishop s House, close to the 
Vauxhall Bridge Road, a bare and dreary building 
originally erected as the Guard s Institute, and 
acquired by the diocese of Westminster in the 
year 1 872. Here he lived ; here he carried on his 
multifarious labours until the end, in the midst of 
a population belonging to the poorest and most 
necessitous to some it would have seemed the 
most hopeless class of the London poor. Con 
gregated together within a stone s throw of the 
houses of the rich were crowds of Irish, living 
under conditions making the decencies of life 
difficult, if not impossible Irish who had pre- 


served, amidst alien surroundings, the traditions, 
religious and national, of their race; others who, 
having lost their own virtues, had failed to acquire 
those of the country wherein they were dwellers, 
and who still clung together, filling the houses in 
the lowest quarters of the district, and divided by 
a curious and intangible line of demarcation from 
their English neighbours. 

The Westminster Manning knew is swiftly 
passing away. One by one the streets where the 
poor were wont to herd are being demolished, to 
make way for public buildings or dwelling-places 
for the rich. As in other parts of the city, Dives 
is banishing Lazarus to a more convenient dis 
tance from his gates. Forty years ago the pro 
blems the Archbishop was bent upon solving 
were vividly exemplified in the life of the people 
occupying the district where his home was to be 
fixed. In few places could the extremes of wealth 
and poverty have met more closely, jostled one 
another more visibly, or pressed themselves with 
more urgency upon the attention of philanthropist 
or reformer. If the new Archbishop had been 
ambitious of work, work lay ready to his hand. 
But though impatient to begin his labours, he 
flung himself into them with no undue haste. On 
the day following his consecration, he left England 


to spend a month in France and Switzerland, and 
to take breath before embarking on his new life. 
It was a life thereafter to know few holidays. 
Reminded, some weeks before his death, of a visit 
paid to Penzance twenty- three years earlier, f It 
was complete rest, he said, I came back, and 
have never known any since/ adding, c Post equitem 
sedet atra cum! Perhaps it was well that even 
his eager and strenuous spirit could not forecast 
all the ceaseless labour and anxiety that was to 
crowd the coming years. 

In forming an estimate of the work done and 
the position he achieved during those years, it 
should be remembered that not so much as the 
foundations of his reputation as a social reformer 
had been laid at this time. Not the least remark 
able feature of his career, taken as a whole, is the 
total absence of any previous active or definite 
intervention in public or secular affairs. In the 
period elapsing between his submission to the 
Catholic Church and his appointment to the 
Archbishopric of Westminster, as well as during 
his earlier ministry, his attitude had been that of a 
sympathetic spectator of the struggle for existence 
carried on by the lower classes, rather than of a 
leader in the fight with which he was afterwards 
to be identified. 


Up to the time of his conversion, if his horizon 
had not been bounded and limited by the Anglican 
Church, his principal interests since early aspira 
tions after a political career had been aban 
doned were connected with that body and the 
crisis through which it was passing. So engrossed 
was he indeed by ecclesiastical questions that, 
though belonging in theory and principle to the 
party of reform, no mention of the Repeal of the 
Corn Laws, or of any kindred measure, finds a 
place in his diary for the years 1844-7. 

His abstention from public action had not, 
it is true, implied indifference to the condition 
of the poor. During the years passed in his 
Sussex parish, he had served an apprenticeship 
in practical knowledge of the working classes ; 
had been laying the foundations of that acquaint 
ance with them justifying his assertion, made 
many years later, that if he knew anything, 
he knew the working people of England ; 
and had acquired a conversancy with their just 
grievances forming a basis for that conviction of 
the necessity of change he afterwards held so 
strongly. Brought into intimate and personal 
relations with the Sussex agricultural labourers, 
he had ever been solicitous for their welfare and 
pitiful over their sufferings ; the experience he had 


gained of their hardships had sunk deep into 
his heart, bearing fruit in the unwearying efforts 
of his after life to better the conditions of all labour 
ing classes alike ; and in a charge delivered in 
the year 1845, as Archdeacon of Chichester, a 
note was struck serving in some sort as a prelude 
to his future work. Lamenting the grinding 
poverty, the unrelenting round of labour, embitter 
ing the spirit of the English poor, he pleaded 
their cause. * Time, he urged, must be redeemed 
for the poor man. The world is too hard upon 
him, and makes him pay too heavy a toll out of 
his short life. 

Yet though his views and outlook in these early 
years caused him to be termed by his brother-in- 
law, Bishop Wilberforce, a Radical, there had 
been little, as regarded the outer world, to justify 
the appellation. His powers were chiefly devoted 
to the quiet and patient performance of parochial 
and diocesan duties, and, whilst neither blind nor 
indifferent to the evils afterwards absorbing him 
to so great an extent, he took no personal part in 
their redress. If he had chosen his flag, he was 
still a soldier in barracks. It is curious to reflect 
that, had he died before the age of fifty-six, he 
would have been remembered as an ecclesiastic 
alone ; and the speculation is interesting whether, 


had he continued to fill a subordinate post, he 
would have been content to the end to occupy the 
sphere of work marked out for him by his superiors. 
Until he was in the position of a leader, the call to 
active service on behalf of his social convictions 
had not apparently sounded in his ears ; and for 
fourteen years after the day when, feeling that he 
had lost everything, he left one field of labour to 
enter upon another, he continued his old practice 
of taking no prominent part in public affairs out 
side the limits of the purely ecclesiastical or 
religious domain. 

Many reasons may have contributed to restrict 
him to this course of action. He had passed 
through a crisis, mental and spiritual, following 
upon years of doubt and conflict ; and had cut 
himself adrift from old associations after a fashion 
necessarily acutely painful to a man past middle 
life, of whom all the deepest interests of his man 
hood were affected by the change. To the ques 
tion, put to him at this time by one of his rela 
tions, why he was called cold, he made the signifi 
cant reply that he felt, in truth, so much, that 
were he to express it he would lose self-control. 
The trial which to be known must be endured, 
may have left him a prey to that species of lassi 
tude not infrequently following upon continued 


effort and strain, and have paralysed for a time 
initiative energy in other directions. Da mar- 
tiro venni a questa pace, he quoted, in reference 
to this phase of his existence. 

He was also a foreigner in a new environment. 
He has given a description of the effect produced 
upon him by the atmosphere into which he was 
suddenly plunged at his conversion. 

When I came, he wrote, from the broad 
stream of the English commonwealth into the 
narrow community of the English Catholics, I 
felt as if I had got into St. James Palace in 1687. 
It was as stately as the House of Lords, and as 
unlike the English Commonwealth as my father s 
mulberry velvet court dress was to his common- 
day blue coat and brass buttons. The old Catholic 
Toryism is the Toryism of Laud and Stafford s 
instincts, feelings, and traditions, without reason, 
principle, or foundation in the law of England at 
any time from King Alfred to Queen Victoria. 
The Catholics of England seem to me to be in 
their politics like the Seven Sleepers. 1 

Into this community Manning had entered, a 
foreign element, ardent in the Catholicism for which 

1 It has been objected that the English Catholics of whom he 
wrote were mostly Whigs, rather than Tories. The atmosphere of 
the two parties, so far as social objects and aims all important in 
his eyes were concerned, was probably much the same. 


he had sacrificed so much, extreme in theological 
views ; but with the stamp left upon him by his 
past, by the life of the public school boy and the 
Oxford undergraduate, and the years of inter 
course with men of all opinions that had followed ; 
and with a growing desire to reassert his claim to 
full participation in the national life. 

If, however, there was little danger that the 
neophyte would be infected by the lofty inertia 
and dignified quiescence of his new associates, he 
may have considered it wise to proceed with 
caution, to find his feet in his fresh surroundings, 
and to prove the weapons placed in his hands 
before flinging himself into the fight. He may 
also have thought it well to allow the fellow- 
workers he had left to become accustomed to his 
change of front before attempting co-operation in 
matters with regard to which he was still in a 
position to make common cause with them. What 
is certain is that he was no sooner installed 
at Westminster, and supreme in power, than he 
gave proof of the direction in which that power 
would be exercised. 

It was perhaps characteristic of the man that 
his first care should have been for the young. An 
old legend tells how, in his native land beyond 
the seas, St. Patrick heard a cry from afar as of 


children pleading for help, and that never there 
after could he rest until he had succoured them. 
The cry of children, in pain or in distress, never 
sounded in vain in Archbishop Manning s ears. 
A child s needless tear, he once said, was a blood- 
blot on this earth. Not by words only, but by 
acts, he was indefatigable in striving to better 
their lot, and when death had withdrawn him from 
the scene of his labours, Mr. Benjamin Waugh, 
who has done a work of such incalculable value 
in mitigating children s sufferings, came forward 
to testify to his eager co-operation and sympathy. 
In this case, as in the case of the accounts given 
by toilers in other fields of his ever ready interest, 
counsel, and encouragement, it is difficult to 
realise that the special work, however great, could 
be no more than a side path of his own labours 
a single one out of the manifold questions with 
which he was daily called upon to deal. But none 
who brought him their troubles, perplexities, and 
difficulties, went away disappointed. He possessed 
the invaluable faculty of throwing himself into 
whatever subject was under discussion as if its 
importance was for the moment paramount ; and 
the very multiplicity of his interests may have 
enabled him to take a truer, saner, view of each 
than was possible for the man to whom it 


constituted the sole and absorbing object of 
unremitting anxiety. To the service of the several 
toilers who sought his advice he brought the fresh 
ness of a mind by which the case in point was 
weighed and reduced to its proper dimensions, and 
expectations were limited by possibility. He knew, 
no one better, that success in any department could 
not be uninterrupted ; he was proof against the 
discouragement often overtaking the man whose 
labour lies in a single direction ; and was well 
aware that permanent work work destined to 
endure could not be hurried. 

More especially he recognised that this was 
the case with regard to those very reforms he 
had at heart. Painfully convinced of the para 
mount need that domestic life should be made 
possible for the poor as it is not, in many cases 
and in any true sense, possible under present 
conditions he also knew that the state of children 
brought up in homes that are no homes can only 
be truly ameliorated by far-reaching changes of 
gradual growth. To rectify a single evil, a detail 
of a whole vicious system, even were it possible to 
do so, is only to cut down a poison plant, leaving 
the root untouched. The work of radical 
amendment is not to be accomplished in a day. 
Public opinion must first be created, and the very 


fact of the existence of a great and urgent need is 
proof that to supply it will take time. 

That a thorough and immediate cure of an 
evil could not be expected, constituted, however, 
in his eyes no excuse for neglecting the attempt 
to minimise the effects of the disease ; and the 
cause of children the first to which he was, as 
Archbishop, to set his hand appealed to him 
with special force. He loved them not only with 
the abstract and impersonal love of a man charged 
with the care of their souls ; but with the warm 
human affection leading him, in his old age, to go 
amongst them as they played in the parks, talk to 
them there, and give them his blessing. 

You do not know how I love my little 
children/ he said to those who feared fatigue for 
him when, shortly before his death, he visited a 
poor school and distributed with his own hands 
the gifts prepared for them. And whilst not a 
child was outside the range of his interest and 
pity, he had a duty to perform towards those for 
whose welfare he was directly responsible. Like St. 
Patrick, he had heard the cry of twenty thousand 
children children in no distant land but at his very 
door, neglected, untaught, uncared for, serving in 
the streets of London their apprenticeship to crime 
and misery ; and was eager to respond to it. 


For two and twenty years, he wrote in 1887, 
of the care of the young, these thoughts have 
weighed upon me ; and I felt that of all the souls 
committed to my charge those that were most in 
peril were the souls of little children. 

The statement reads strangely. It may perhaps 
be interpreted as signifying, not that the souls of 
children were in greater danger than others, but 
that, possessing more possibilities of redemption, 
they had also more to lose ; and it gives the key 
to the impatience of the new Archbishop to be up 
and doing on their behalf, and to his firmness in 
consistently refusing to subordinate their needs to 
the other requirements of the diocese. 

My first thought/ he wrote to Monsignor 
Talbot when the momentous decision had been 
taken at Rome, and he had received tidings of his 
appointment to Westminster, my first thought, 
on that Monday when the letter from Propaganda 
came, was of the twenty thousand children in 
London, and I hope with God s help to do some 
thing for them. 

The idea had indeed crossed his mind that a 
memorial to the dead Cardinal might take the 
form of providing education and care for the 
young of his flock. This hope had been destroyed 
even before his consecration ; and at a meeting 


of influential Catholics it was decided that a 
Cathedral at Westminster would be the fittest 
monument to its first Archbishop. At a second 
gathering at Willis s Rooms, at which the Arch 
bishop-elect presided, he bestowed his formal 
approval upon the scheme and contributed a 
thousand pounds towards it. Having done so, he 
proceeded at once to make an urgent appeal for 
an object he had still more at heart the rescuing 
of the destitute, ignorant, and uncared for children 
of the London streets. To save these children 
was, he said, his first duty the first duty of 
London Catholics. 

Sir Charles Clifford made reply, no doubt 
expressing the sentiments of most of those present, 
by drily drawing attention to the purpose of the 
meeting namely, the collection of funds for the 
erection of a Cathedral as a memorial to the late 
Cardinal. The question of the children was beside 
the mark. 

The audience were enthusiastically in favour of 
the original scheme, and ; 16,000 was given or 
promised on the spot. 

Opposition would have been both unfair and 
impolitic; but whilst Cardinal Wiseman s successor 
pledged himself to co-operate cordially in the 
projected memorial, his heart remained fixed 


upon the work to which it had been preferred. 
A note in his journal, dated 1878-82, includes his 
own account of the matter, and explains his 
conduct with regard to it. When Cardinal 
Wiseman s friends/ he then wrote, . . . resolved 
to build a cathedral as a memorial of him, 
I assented ; but when I was appointed by Pius 
IX. and presided before consecration at a meeting 
in Willis s Rooms for that purpose, I said that I 
accepted it with all my heart, but that first I 
must gather in the poor children. I hope I have 
kept my word, for I bought the land, and some 
thousands are given and others left for the 
building. But could I leave twenty thousand 
children without education, and drain my friends 
and my flock to pile up stones and bricks? 
And he went on to record the result of his 
labours. The work of the poor children may be 
said to be done. We have nearly doubled the 
number in schools, and there is schoolroom for 
all. . . . My successor may begin to build a 

From first to last he made no secret of his 
unpopular preference. In 1874, at a meeting of 
the Diocesan Education Fund, he publicly reiter 
ated his intention of subordinating the erection of 
the great church to the welfare of those who 


should fill it, repeating what he had said when 
the plan was first under consideration that 
when the work of the poor children in London 
had been accomplished, and not till then, he 
would be ready to promote it. I will never pile 
stone upon stone until souls have been built up in 
the spiritual church which is the true cathedral 
of Westminster. The Jews, he added, had a 
proverb, full of charity, declaring that even the 
building of the Temple must be suspended that 
the children might be taught. In the spirit of 
that proverb he had acted, and he would be 
content to leave the happiness of laying the first 
stone to the man who followed him, if he himself 
could see the work of the poor children of London 

It was inevitable that the line he took should 
be misunderstood and to a certain degree resented 
by men who did not share his enthusiasm, and 
who were excusably and not unnaturally bent 
upon placing before the world an outward and 
visible sign of the faith so long proscribed, and 
whose claims had only lately been vindicated in 
their native country. It is curious to note the 
coolness with which his zeal, though closely 
connected with Roman Catholic interests, was 
regarded by such a man as his friend and 


partisan, Monsignor Talbot. The Roman ecclesi 
astic plainly felt that the new Archbishop might 
be in danger of squandering his gifts and wasting 
his opportunities. 

Of course you must not neglect the poor/ he 
allowed, in response to Manning s first intimation 
of the species of labours crowding to his mind. 
* But many can do that work ; few have the 
influence that you have I may say, no one on 
the upper classes of Protestants. Writing some 
months later, the same tone is perceptible. After 
a perfunctory admission that he is glad that the 
Archbishop is turning his attention to the London 
poor, Talbot adds, with a suspicion of contempt, 
that he will find many to co-operate in that work. 
It appealed to the heart of utilitarians, and all 
parties would be prepared to support it. 

With regard to the education scheme which 
was Manning s first care, generous help was 
indeed given ; so that a year later he was in a 
position to make what he looked upon as a 
real beginning to the work so urgently required. 
Nevertheless, writing in May 1866, to announce 
the summoning of a meeting for the purpose of 
forming a fund for the poor children, he com 
plained that there were men whom he could not 
get to believe in their existence, c Oakeley, . . . 


after having said that all our Catholic children 
are in school, now admits that there are twelve 
thousand without education. I am sure there 
are twenty thousand ; but I will work with twelve 
thousand, which is sad and bad enough. 

The meeting, preceded by a pastoral circular, 
was successful ; and writing in joy and hope to 
Talbot, after it had taken place, the Archbishop 
was able to announce the inauguration of a Dio 
cesan Fund, and to state that the work of educa 
tion had been placed upon a permanent footing. 

1 1 look upon this only as a beginning/ he 
added, and thank God for it. I know your heart 
will be in the work. 

Notwithstanding the persistent confidence dis 
played by Manning in his sympathy, Talbot s 
congratulations are again singularly devoid of 
warmth, and reflect a condition of mind very 
different from that of his friend. Perhaps in the 
same way that in latter day warfare the fact that the 
enemy is almost invisible must have done much 
to eliminate the ardour of hatred animating those 
who in earlier times met their foes in hand to 
hand combat ; so it was natural that the outlook 
of the distant spectator should differ from that of 
the man fighting sin and poverty and ignorance 
at close quarters at home. There was not much 


that was supernatural in the zeal of English 
Catholics, wrote Talbot in reply to the Arch 
bishop s letter : Manning was, however, wise in 
making use of their philanthropic sympathies. 
He himself had always taken the greatest interest 
in the London poor ; but in order to save their 
souls, not merely to make them more respectable 
members of society the Protestant view of such 
matters, unfortunately shared by many Catholics. 
And the Archbishop must not shorten his days 
by overwork, and should never himself do what a 
priest could do for him. 

A greater contrast between the spirit of rose- 
water charity thus displayed, and the burning 
compassion for ruined lives spurring on the man 
to whom the letter was addressed, can scarcely be 
conceived ; and in the midst of his gladness at 
the response to his appeal, the veiled admonitions 
the letter contained must have struck coldly on the 
Archbishop. But the first step had been taken, 
the initial work he had projected on behalf of the 
London poor had been inaugurated, and, under 
these circumstances, he could the more readily 
dispense with congratulation. 1 

1 It has been estimated that approximately ^"350,000 was ulti 
mately contributed throughout the country to the Catholic Edu 
cation Crisis Fund. Cardinal Manning. Hutton, p. 171. 


Into the details of the labours he thenceforward 
carried on in connection with education, his cease 
less and unwearied efforts to place it upon what 
he considered a proper footing, and to ensure to 
it a religious basis, it is impossible to enter. His 
policy on this point, the terms he strove to 
exact from successive Governments, and in large 
measure succeeded in securing, were, in contrast 
to his attitude on other questions, of a distinctly 
reactionary type. In regard to this matter almost 
solely, he joined his forces to those of the Con 
servative party; urging the right of voluntary 
schools to a share of the support from the rates 
bestowed upon the School Board; acting, from 
1884 onwards, in concert with the Voluntary 
Schools Association, including the Anglican and 
Wesleyan bodies ; pressing upon public notice the 
alleged failure of secular education in America 
and France; and going so far, in 1885, in view 
of the education question, as to support Conser 
vative candidates. In 1886 he was given a place 
on the Royal Commission appointed to deal with 
the question of Primary Schools, his influence 
being plainly apparent in its Report ; and before 
he died he had the satisfaction of witnessing the 
triumph of his principles in the IDS. granted by 
the Free Education Act for each child in volun- 


tary schools. The result must have surpassed 
his hopes, and he may well have been satisfied. 

In proof of the important share ascribed to 
him in obtaining the settlement, it is sufficient to 
quote the words addressed to him the previous 
year, on the occasion of his episcopal jubilee, by 
Sir H. Francis Sandford, who declared that he 
felt from his heart that if England was to remain, 
so far as education was concerned, a Christian 
country, it would be to his Eminence that that 
result would be largely due. 


The Archbishop s Methods Loneliness A Fireman on 
Duty Aspirations for his Flock His I deal of a Bishop 

AND so the new Archbishop entered upon his 
labours. Many can do that work/ Monsignor 
Talbot had written with reference to that toil for 
the poor of which his friend s heart was full. What 
they could not do, what none could do as well as 
he, was work connected with another and a 
higher class. If the Archbishop made no protest, 
his silence did not imply assent. Explanation 
would have failed to convince. His life would 
be the answer. 

Many could do that work. Many, certainly, 
could have visited, as he did, the poorest missions in 
his diocese, but not all would have brought to the 
men carrying on their uphill labour in those 
districts the encouragement drawn from the fact 
that their chief had seen it with his own eyes. 
Many could have penetrated, as he did, into the 
lowest quarters of the city ; could have spent 
winter evenings, as he did, talking to men straight 


from their work in the street or in the dockyard, 
as they stood or sat around him, discussing, 
attending, questioning, suggesting, but second 
hand reports of the misery and evil with which 
he was to grapple, would not have brought 
him into touch with the mass of his people, or 
produced the intimate acquaintance with their 
condition and circumstances finding its expression 
in his work. Many could have preached as he did 
to the prisoners in the gaol chapel, but not with 
the effect described by the Fenian, Boyle O Reilly, 
when he told of the stranger in the violet cassock 
who stood before that melancholy audience ; of 
the attitude of sullen inattention assumed by the 
convicts as they heard him introduce the well worn 
theme of the Prodigal Son a type of repentance 
of whom they were weary ; of the unaccustomed 
tears which presently rose to the eyes of his 
hearers, as in simple language the speaker called 
up memories of home and of parents left desolate 
and broken-hearted ; and of how, as he ended, some 
of the men were sobbing ; O Reilly himself, severe 
as had been the Archbishop s condemnation of 
his own party, declaring that, apart from the 
love he bore him on account of his devotion to 
Ireland, that sermon had endeared the preacher 
to him for life. 


He knew the way to men s hearts ; he possessed, 
as few have possessed to a like degree, the secret 
of winning their confidence and love ; and to none, 
however zealous and devoted, would he delegate 
the duty of personal ministry. Many could have 
done, or tried to do, the work he had chosen. 
Few or none could have done it as he did it ; few 
or none could have left the mark he left. 

If a just estimate is to be formed of actions, the 
spirit in which they are performed must be under 
stood, since that alone lends them their moral and 
subjective value. Motives must be discovered, 
giving to each its character, conferring upon each 
its worth, and placing the failure of one man in 
comparably above the success achieved by another. 

In some cases this is difficult; it is a hard 
matter to penetrate to the hidden springs setting 
the visible machinery at work. Conjecture is all 
that can be hazarded. But there are special 
facilities for arriving at conclusions with regard to 
Cardinal Manning. In days to come, when the 
evening shadows were falling, and his labours 
were drawing towards their close, he was accus 
tomed, in leisure moments, to review his past, and 
to note its characteristics, its phases, its temptations 
and its successes, with something of the impartial 
interest of a spectator. In these autobiographical 


notes, perhaps intended in the first instance for no 
eye save his own, the inner existence of which 
action was no more than the outward expression 
and clothing, is found revealed, and the nature of 
the man, the source of his influence, makes itself 

The traces found in these records of past 
ambitions, hopes renounced, serve to throw into 
clearer relief the lines upon which his later years 
were moulded. * I had a haunting feeling, he 
wrote after reading Macaulay s biography, that 
his had been a life of public utility, and mine a 
vita timbratilis a life in the shade, passive and of 
little result. For this life little enough . . . but 
perhaps if I had not broken with the world I 
might not have been saved. 

Again, he draws a comparison between his own 
career and Gladstone s Gladstone, who had begun 
life as a Tory, he himself having been from the 
first a Mosaic Radical pronouncing upon his 
early friend with generous admiration. The 
statesman s career had been for the people, always 
widening out ; he was now the leader of a demo 
cracy which need not be a revolution if the upper 
classes had the manhood, common-sense and self- 
denial, to mix with the people and lead them. 
Gladstone s had been a great career ; the work of 


his life was manifest in this world. * I hope/ said 
the Cardinal he was writing in 1882 mine may 
be in the next/ For thirty years he added, he 
could scarcely have been more separate from the 
world. Yet, during the last ten or fifteen, he had 
again been mixed up with the English people in 
many ways, always by their invitation. And the 
touch of wistfulness perceptible as he set his own 
life beside that of his former comrade disappears. 

Nevertheless an impression of loneliness is 
forced upon the reader of these scattered notes 
the impression of an existence led apart, cut 
off not only from the ties of old affection, but 
from any subsequent intimacies. One looks in 
vain for any trace of close or familiar friendship 
a friendship of the kind, for instance, binding him 
to Gladstone before the paths of the two diverged. 
Men there doubtless were strongly linked to him 
by affection and loyalty, but his position towards 
them was for the most part, necessarily and in 
evitably, that of the superior. Whereas friendship, 
using the term in its highest sense, demands, if 
not perfect equality, at least that the relative 
value of what each friend bestows should on the 
whole be justly balanced. Too disinterested a 
love becomes nothing but very generous alms/ is 
a wise saying. 


Friendship moreover, like most other things 
worth having, demands leisure. Some persons 
voluntarily crowd life in a fashion to exclude it. 
To others circumstances render the art difficult, if 
not impossible. Counterfeits not without their 
value take its place. Men are swept together by 
common aims or objects, with the result that their 
outer lives are closely and intimately associated. 
Nor is the union, so far as it goes, other than real 
and genuine. Penetrate, however, below the sur 
face, and you may find a total absence of the 
bond welding man to man independently of 
what may be termed accidental contact. The 
very stress of work responsible for existing ties 
may have precluded the formation of those born, 
not of community of labour or of interests, but 
of the intangible and indefinable attraction, the 
personal affinity, described by Montaigne as the 
sole explanation of the veritable link parceque 
c etait moi parceque c etait lui. 

Whether this was the case with Manning 
must remain undetermined. It is not for a 
stranger to judge. For him deep friendships may 
have existed. To those who study the records of 
his later life, so far as they are accessible, such 
friendships are not apparent. Surrounded by 
disciples, sought daily by mendicants in need of 


advice, comfort, or encouragement, his sympathy, 
his care, his anxious thought, were at the service 
of all. But something corresponding in the 
philanthropist to the egoisme de 1 artiste an 
egoism which, though not personal, limited his vivid 
interests to the sphere wherein his wider love 
of humanity found free scope, may have con 
sciously or unconsciously caused him to close the 
door upon those who might otherwise have 
penetrated to the inner sanctuary of his affections. 
In intimate contact/ said Father Butler, the man 
who perhaps knew him better than any other, 
you perceived that in his whispers in conversation, 
his dreams at night, his confidences given into 
sympathetic ears, he was the same as the orator, 
the ruler, or the counsellor of Holy Church. The 
words, eulogistic as they are, corroborate the 
suspicion that his inner life was lived alone. It is 
not as orator, ruler, or counsellor of state that 
friend reveals himself to friend. 

A special feature of his character, as it unfolds 
itself in actions and words, was a combination of 
opposites. There was something of the charm of 
unexpectedness in his commerce with life. An 
anchorite who did dwell, with the whole world for 
cell, he was also a man of the world ; if in some 
respects he approximated to the ancient ideal of 


an ecclesiastic, he was in another sense markedly 
and essentially modern ; if in the theological 
domain he stood across the threshold and barred 
the way to novel thought, he was eager to lead 
men forward in other directions in what might be 
termed by some critics dangerous paths. With a 
certain severity tenderness mingled to a singular 
degree ; he could sorrow over the fate of a 
Boulanger, dead on a woman s grave ; and be 
moved to the point of emotion as the pale-faced 
child of a carpenter recalled the home at Nazareth. 

His love for souls was individual no less than 
collective. For each single one he had solici 
tude even anxiety to spare. Pride has kept 
you from religion, he once warned a woman, 
and from sin, he added, and his eyes were full of 
tears. f A stern ecclesiastic he might be/ wrote 
some one, but the poor did not think so. ... 
The penitents of the streets did not think him 
austere, nor the inebriates, nor even those, thrice 
unhappy, who . . . had lost their faith. To be 
unhappy, from whatever cause, was to possess a 
claim upon him never disallowed. 

If he lived in a measure alone, it was by 
deliberate choice. Watching, from the centre of 
London, what went on around him with keen 
attention, and endowed with every gift fitting him 


to take and keep his place among his lay equals, 
he elected, so far as merely social intercourse was 
concerned, to live a priest with priests ; entering 
the world, to use his own phrase, only as a fire 
man on duty. In spite of his varied activities 
and eager study of the problems of the day, 
his outlook remained the outlook of an 
ascetic. He had accepted his losses in the spirit 
of an ascetic ; he used his opportunities in the 
same spirit. Looking back upon the past, he 
discerned in each forfeited possibility in what to 
some men would have represented the wasted 
chances of life a divine interposition, a danger 
escaped, a catastrophe averted ; and, within sight 
of his goal, he would trace the course of the events 
which had made him what he was, and recognize 
in all Oat had passed the presence of a master 
hand. The aspirations of his early years, his 
political ambitions, his natural ties, everything 
had been taken from him he had become as dead 
to all as if in another world, and, severing his 
connection with the past, had become a man cui 
patria est ecclesia. 

It seems necessary to dwell upon this spirit of 
apartness this separateness from the life around 
him, since it may, perhaps, supply some part of 
the explanation of his power and influence with 


the poor. He came to them, not as an occasional 
visitant from another sphere, but as belonging to 
a neutral territory, his vision unclouded by the 
prejudices unconsciously contracted in an antagon 
istic environment. 

Though occupying this attitude, and remaining, 
except when some definite purpose was to be 
served, in a measure apart, he was from the 
first keenly conscious of the position, with regard 
to the national life, of the members of his 
flock ; and in no way desired on their behalf the 
existence he had chosen for himself. Yet there 
were difficulties in the way of altering -hat had 
become a tradition of the Catholic body. The 
mass of his priests and people, of Irish extraction, 
had been born in animosity, civil and religious, 
to the English State. Faithful to their nation 
and race, hostility to an unjust and dominant 
power ran in their blood, tending to keep them 
aloof, alien and suspicious, from participation 
in the life and interests, public and private, of 
their fellow-citizens. Nor was this spirit confined 
to the Irish, many of their English co-religionists 
being rendered by prejudice scarcely less in 
capable and useless. Nevertheless life, civil and 
political, lay open to these men, provided they 


knew how to enter it, and to bear themselves 
when there; and in the Archbishop s eyes ( the 
withdrawal of Catholics from the active service of 
the commonwealth and the non-fulfilment of the 
duties of citizens and patriots was a dereliction of 
duty and unlawful in itself. It was perhaps no 
wonder, he admitted in 1880, that the antagonism 
aroused by the Penal Laws should have continued 
as a personal sentiment, and that those who 
had been subject to them should, when their 
disabilities were removed, feel no ambition or 
desire for public life. But it was a disaster a 
1 politique d effacement. That they should learn 
to make use of their opportunities he was keenly 
anxious anxious too that they should be so 
equipped as to meet their countrymen neces 
sarily opposed to them on certain subjects on 
equal terms. If they were to be a power in the 
world, and he wished to make them a power, he 
knew that it could not be done by shaping them 
in a mould that had become obsolete. To attempt 
it would have been a suicidal system. They 
cannot meet [others], he wrote, without being 
forced into the time spirit. We do not live in an 
exhausted receiver. The Middle Ages are past. 
There is no zone of calms for us. We are in the 

modern world in the trade-winds of the nine- 



teenth century and we must brace ourselves to 
lay hold of the world as it grapples with us, and 
to meet it, intellect to intellect, culture to culture, 
science to science. 1 

Whilst he would have had the lay members of his 
flock take an active part in public life, there were 
obligations he recognised as specially binding upon 
the clergy. The Gospel precepts, as he read them, 
did no more than strengthen and expand the dictum 
of Terence, Homo sum et humani nikil a me alienum. 
By each civilised man everything affecting human 
suffering and the state of the people should be 
noted and tended. If priests and bishops could 
not multiply loaves or heal lepers, they could be 
prompt and foremost in working with all who 
laboured to relieve suffering, sorrow, and misery. 
How, he pondered, was that mass of suffering, 
sorrow, and misery to be reached ? This was the 
question present with him at all times, as his eyes 
rested on the modern world and appraised its 
needs and its condition. Outside the visible 
church the power of good was, it was true, plainly 
to be discerned carrying on its work ; and strenu- 

1 With these sentiments, it was a singular fact that it should 
have been Manning who set his face, steadily and persistently, 
against the frequenting of English universities by members of his 
flock; thus depriving those by whom his authority was respected 
of the educational advantages enjoyed by non- Catholics. 


ously and generously he testified to its presence 
in bodies divided from Catholic unity, protesting 
against the narrowness that would limit the 
Spirit of God. The soul of the church/ he 
once said, is as old as Abel, and as wide as 
the race of mankind. But, in spite of all, the 
human spirit, as distinguished from the divine, 
dominated Christian society. Were it not so, 
London could never have become what it was. 
And how to reach it, how to bring healing to the 
ills he saw ? * The world is dying positus in mal- 
ignol he said, and we must go into it through fire. 
If his confidence in the capacity of his faith to 
win back the godless multitude was great, it was 
not upon the intellect though he desired its 
cultivation that he relied to do the work. But 
human love, care, brotherhood, the law and power 
of the Incarnation, might draw the human will, 
lost through past sin and misery, into the divine 
presence. Bishops and priests were happily in 
dependent, detached from the world, its titles, 
wealth, privileges. 1 Woe to him who should 

1 The independence of the Church in England was a constant 
matter of rejoicing to him. When will you have done with the 
Concordat? he asked in the course of a conversation reported in 
the Libre Parole. . . . The Church has never suffered by the 
poverty of her members. Look at us. We have suffered. But 
how great is our freedom ! 


entangle the church with governments and poli 
tics. Woe to the bishop of party or prejudice. 
And then follows his own ideal the standard he 
set up for the man who should worthily fill his 

He should be human and Christian, human in 
all sympathy with the creatures of God, from the 
sorrows of men to the sufferings of the animal 
world ; Christian in the charity of God and man, 
to friends and to enemies, in tenderness of heart, 
self-sacrifice, humility and patience. Sin, sorrow, 
and suffering, not only in the unity of the church, 
but out of it, ought to command his sympathy 
and service. 

Few will be found to deny that from first to last, 
as Archbishop and as Cardinal, Henry Edward 
Manning carried out his precepts, and adhered to 
the line he had traced. More and more he was 
destined to become a force to be taken into 
account. Often referred to at a later date in 
foreign papers, by a very pardonable mistake, as 
Archbishop of Canterbury or of London, his 
influence was the greater because untrammelled 
by the fetters belonging to the official position of 
those with whom he was confounded. 

There was another factor to which his power 
was due. Some men may preserve independence 


of party, and may yet be the slave of public 
opinion, hampered by the fear of giving offence. 
Manning s independence was displayed, not in one 
direction alone, but in all. He may have loved 
popularity ; he never hesitated to risk it by 
running counter, where principle was involved, to 
public or private sentiment ; nor did he shrink 
from proclaiming his convictions. With unbounded 
charity towards the professors of opinions he re 
garded as erroneous, he combined the frank con 
demnation of their doctrines. He was as ready 
to face the accusation of bigotry from the one 
camp as that of socialism from the other. 

An element in his character not devoid of moral 
danger also contributed to make men trust him. 
He trusted himself. His confidence in his judg 
ment, depriving him to some extent of the benefit 
and help to be derived from counsel and advice, 
served to steady his hand and to straighten the 
course he pursued to reach his end. He was 
rarely, if ever, in the condition of the man who is 
paralysed by doubt. 

* There is only room for one true fear in a man/ 
he once said, when failure, partial or transitory, 
threatened a cause he had deeply at heart, * that 
fear is that he may be wrong. When that fear 
has been banished, there is no room for any other/ 


The suspicion that he might be wrong, self- 
distrust or diffidence qualities not without their 
merits, but crippling to action were no features of 
the Cardinal s character. He formed his own 
conclusions, and steered his own ship, and whilst 
the extreme of self-reliance, the inability to allow 
due weight to the opinions of others, has its draw 
backs, and is not commonly found in conjunction 
with the grace of humility, it is not without its 
practical advantages. It was the conviction that 
he would be swayed by his sense of justice 
alone, by no tenderness for the susceptibilities 
of friends or associates, and by no considerations 
of expediency or opportunism, that gave him his 
influence over other men. They knew that they 
had to deal with Henry Edward Manning, whom 
they trusted, not with his unknown advisers and 
counsellors. As man to man, not as the mouth 
piece of a party or a school, he spoke to them, 
encouraged them, warned them, or, when he saw 
occasion, blamed them. They were assured that 
in misfortune or disappointment they could count 
upon his support. His disregard of consequences, 
compared with the rectitude of the aim, won him 
the confidence of the working men of England, 
and made them turn to him as a friend to be 
relied upon never to betray their cause. 


Breach with Mr. Gladstone the Vatican Decrees Death 
of the Archbishop of Paris the Agricultural Labourer s 
Union Lecture on the Dignity and Rights of Labour 
Varied Work. 

THOUGH Archbishop Manning had lost no time 
in setting to work upon the duties belonging to 
his new position, his entrance upon any sort of 
public life unconnected, or only indirectly con 
nected, with his calling was effected gradually. 
Even his literary energies had been suspended 
since his conversion, and when he took up his 
pen it was principally for the purpose of dealing 
with religious questions. His attention too was 
necessarily engaged by the needs of the diocese 
and the difficulty of meeting them. 

If I know how to help you I will/ he wrote to 
Monsignor Talbot in October 1867, in answer to 
urgent appeals for funds to carry on the building 
of an English church in Rome, but I am burdened 
beyond measure/ 

And besides and above mere pecuniary and 
practical cares, the momentous issues involved in 



the coming Vatican Council must have been 
pressing upon his mind ; whilst, when it took 
place, attendance at it withdrew him from England 
during a large portion of the year 1 870. 

His share in the proceedings at Rome belongs 
to an aspect of his character and career with 
which the present volume is not concerned. Con 
sequent upon the decrees of the Council, how 
ever, was an event of no little importance in his 
secular life and carrying with it much pain. This 
was the transformation of the estrangement be 
tween himself and Mr. Gladstone which had 
followed upon his secession from the Church of 
England into a definite and open breach, not to 
be healed and then only partially until after 
many years. 

The friendship between the two men, each great 
in his own sphere, is an interesting chapter in the 
history of each. How much it had counted for 
in the earlier years of the statesman, is shown by 
a letter he addressed to Archdeacon Wilberforce 
when, in April 1851, the blow of Manning s 
submission to Rome had fallen. 

I do indeed feel the loss of Manning, he then 
wrote, if and as far as I am capable of feeling 
anything. It comes to me cumulated and doubled 
with that of James Hope. Nothing like it can 


ever happen to me again. Arrived now at middle 
life I can never form, I suppose, with any other 
two men the habits of communication, counsel 
and dependence in which I have now for from 
fifteen to eighteen years lived with them both. l 
In a late letter the Cardinal termed it a quarrel, 
Mr. Gladstone wrote long after, but in my reply 
I told him it was not a quarrel but a death, and 
that was the truth. 

The tone of the lament sounds strangely in 
the ears of those who, for good or for ill, have 
left behind them the days when a change of 
religion represented almost necessarily a severance 
of the closest ties. In the present case the 
separation was for some twelve years complete ; 
and though intercourse was in a measure resumed 
after that date, the communications which then 
passed between the old comrades, though couched 
in the language of affectionate intimacy, were for 
the most part confined to mere matters of business. 
In a letter addressed to a correspondent who had 
drawn the Archbishop s attention to the attempt 
of a daily paper to damage Mr. Gladstone in public 
estimation by insinuations that an understanding 
had existed between the two on the question of 
the disestablishment of the Irish Church, the 

1 Life of Gladstone. John Morley. 


Archbishop, indignantly repudiating the sugges 
tion, gave an account both of their former friend 
ships and of the suspension of it consequent upon 
his conversion. If, in more recent years, official 
duties had caused a certain renewal of intercourse, 
his communications with Mr. Gladstone, he said, 
had only differed from those he had held with 
other public men because, whilst they were 
strangers, Mr. Gladstone was and is the man 
whose friendship has been to me one of the most 
cherished and valued in my life. Yet, though 
coming forward to clear the minister from any 
suspicion he might incur by reason of his 
connection with himself, the Archbishop had 
clung to the belief that a friendship can con 
tinue in spite of divergent opinion, of opposed 
interests, and of the absence of all by which 
such bonds are cemented. To his indignation at 
the attack directed in 1874 by the Liberal leader 
against the body he represented, was added 
therefore the sting of wounded and personal 

By some the blow, delivered four years after 
the promulgation of the Vatican decrees which 
were its ostensible raison detre, was attributed to 
anger and disappointment on Gladstone s part at 
the rejection of his Irish University Bill by the 


Irish episcopate, and the consequent fall of the 
Government. Manning did not share this opinion. 
On the night of the defeat he had been told by 
the minister that he was without disappointment 
and without resentment, and had believed him. 
Yet he noted as a curious fact, and somewhat 
inconsistently, that the same subject that of a 
University for Ireland had involved him in 
collisions with both the Conservative and Liberal 
leaders. Disraeli, he observed, kept his head, 
but not his temper, Gladstone lost both. 

As a matter of fact, the Archbishop would 
have willingly seen the University Bill accepted. 
As he and Delane left the House of Commons 
together on the night February 13, 1873 
that it had been introduced, the latter ob 
served that it was a bill made to pass/ and 
Manning cordially agreed ; writing to Cardinal 
Cullen to urge its acceptance. A fortnight later 
he informed Gladstone that he had reason to hope 
that this would be the case he himself having 
done what he could to promote that end. But 
the views of the Irish hierarchy differed from 
those of the Archbishop of Westminster, and by 
March 7 he was aware of the fact. This is 
not your fault, nor the bill s fault, he wrote to 
Gladstone after his defeat, but the fault of 


England and Scotland, and three anti-catholic 
centuries. 1 

The following year came Gladstone s attack. 
Whatever might have been its originating cause, 
the form it took, in the assertion that, by the 
late decrees, Roman Catholics were rendered 
incapable of fulfilling the obligations of civil 
allegiance, was keenly resented by the Archbishop. 
To those who regard the question from the stand 
point of the present day, it may seem singular 
that so much passion should have been evoked on 
either side by a controversy since proved what 
ever may be the case in foreign countries to have 
little practical bearing upon English politics. But 
it must not be forgotten that, forty years ago, Mr. 
Gladstone s charge was invested, in the eyes of 
many of his countrymen, with a dangerous 
significance, justifying the heat with which it was 
repudiated on all hands. Offensive as it was to 
Roman Catholics in general, it was specially so to 
a man feeling the rights and duties of citizenship 
with peculiar force ; and regarding it in some 
sense as a personal insult, the Archbishop lost no 
time in replying to the challenge, and in vindi 
cating with angry bitterness the loyalty of his 

1 Life of Gladstone. John Morley. 


From a literary point of view the answer elicited 
from Newman, in his letter to the Duke of Norfolk, 
remains the most permanent monument of a 
battle of words which has long ago lost its 
interest ; but to Manning the literary aspect of the 
controversy was of small importance. What was 
of moment was to set himself and his Church 
right in the eyes of a nation who might be misled 
by the aspersions cast upon them. Categorically 
denying the interpretation placed upon the recent 
decrees by Mr. Gladstone, he emphatically 
affirmed that, so far from Roman Catholics being 
thereby relegated to a position differing from that 
occupied by the rest of the nation, their civil 
allegiance was divided in no other sense than that 
of every man who, recognizing a divine or natural 
moral law, admitted the supremacy of conscience 
and of the law of God. 

The argument is unanswerable, so far as the 
theoretical obligation of obedience is concerned. 
It will scarcely be contended that human law is 
always a synonym for justice, and it would be a 
libel upon the ordinary citizen to assert that the 
admonitions of conscience, should they chance, in 
any particular instance, to conflict with legal 
demands, would be less imperative than the 
injunctions of a Pope. The penalties in either 


case would be the same, and the lawbreaker must 

be prepared to pay them. Argument, however, 

rarely convinces ; and it seems strange had it 

not been for his earnest desire to stand well 

with his countrymen that the Archbishop should 

have devoted so much trouble and pains to 

disprove a charge that time might have been 

trusted to dispose of. The death-blow to a 

friendship was probably one of its most serious 

results; and the encounter of the two old 

comrades, apart from the public issues concerned, 

presents some curious and interesting features. In 

a letter to a newspaper, the Archbishop had, 

somewhat inopportunely, adverted to the personal 

aspect of the dispute, by the expression of his 

regret that a friendship of forty-five years should 

be thus for the first time overcast. With the eye 

of a politician quick to perceive a danger to his 

public reputation, Gladstone foresaw that, should 

he permit the words to pass unchallenged, they 

might lend colour to the accusation already 

brought against him, that not until he had no 

longer anything to lose or gain by the Irish vote 

had he abandoned an attitude of conciliation ; and 

he took the opportunity in a second pamphlet to 

qualify the statement as an astonishing error; 

thereby drawing forth a private letter from 


Manning, wherein he reiterated his former asser 
tion, and added that his friendship had remained 
unaltered by a change affecting outward manifesta 
tions alone. 

In his reply, Mr. Gladstone, besides making 
clear the motive dictating his desire to disclaim 
an unbroken friendship, cited, not without justice, 
its suspension during a period of twelve years, as 
well as more recent accusations and counter- 
accusations made and retorted in no moderate 
terms in regard to the Italian question. 

It would have been better to let the matter rest ; 
but with characteristic tenacity the Archbishop 
refused to abandon the position he had taken up. 
That outward separation had followed upon his 
submission to Rome he fully admitted ; that the 
inner tie of affection had been consequently 
severed he as emphatically denied, so far, that is, 
as his own sentiments were concerned. It is not 
for me, he wrote, to say whether your friendship 
for me was already changed. In the midst of our 
strong opposition, I still believed it as unchanged 
as my own. 

No doubt the statesman was right, the Arch 
bishop wrong. To imagine that a friendship, 
vulnerable, like all things human, to influences from 
without, could remain unaltered through twelve 


years of a silence broken only by outward discord, 
was in truth the vision of a dreamer, singular in a 
man with so little of the dreamer about him as 
Archbishop Manning. By the controversy of 
1874-5 tne delusion was effectually dispelled, and 
he was left the poorer. There is strength as well 
as delicacy/ says Frederick Robertson, in one 
who can still respect, and be just to the memory 
of obliterated friendship. Perhaps neither of these 
two had been altogether equal to the strain put 
upon them. 

Upon the Vatican Council had followed other 
important European events the Franco-Prussian 
war, with the invasion of Rome, involving the loss 
of the Temporal power, and naturally engrossing 
in great measure the attention of a man whose 
sympathies were passionately enlisted on the side 
of the dispossessed Pope. 

By such matters the Archbishop s social work 
in England was only affected in so far as they 
left him the less leisure to devote to other than 
ecclesiastical duties, and may thus have con 
tributed to postpone the inauguration of his 
secular labours. But in 1871 his presence for 
the first time upon a Mansion House Committee 
foreshadowed the days when he would be an 
almost indispensable member of all such bodies. 


In this case the Committee had been formed for 
the purpose of relieving the distress in Paris 
consequent upon the war ; and in the communi 
cations addressed to his brother prelate, Mon- 
seigneur Darboy, Manning was the natural repre 
sentative and spokesman of the London Com 
mittee. In January, when the eyes of all men 
were fixed upon the unfortunate city, it further 
became his duty to use his vain endeavours to 
avert the doom awaiting its Archbishop, then 
fallen into the hands of the Commune, and soon 
to become its victim. 

But although, during the first years of his 
episcopate, the attention and thoughts of the 
new Archbishop had been necessarily diverted 
in great measure into channels unconnected with 
social grievances and their remedies, his convic 
tions on subjects of the kind had become known. 
In December 1872, an invitation to preside 
at a meeting at Exeter Hall on behalf of the 
Agricultural Labourers Union is evidence that 
he had then been fully recognised as an ally by 
those bent upon bettering the condition of the 

Lest the interests of the newly-founded associa 
tion should be injured by the prominence accorded 
to him, he declined to occupy the chair. Present 


at the meeting, however, in conjunction with 
Sir Charles Trevelyan, Mr. Mundella, Sir Charles 
Dilke, Mr. Odgers, Mr. Arch, and others, he took 
part in the proceedings, moving the first resolu 
tion and urging the necessity of a reconstitution of 
the domestic life of the labouring poor. Having 
fully testified his sympathy with the objects of 
the meeting, it was in strict conformity with his 
principles, and in accordance with the intention 
he had expressed, that when so notorious and 
aggressive an assailant of the Christian religion 
as Mr. Bradlaugh appeared upon the platform, 
the Archbishop withdrew. He was sorry, he 
afterwards said, that the meeting had been 
diverted from the purpose for which it was called 
and for which he had attended it. 

If he had not hesitated to risk giving offence 
by making a public stand upon a question of 
principle, he was on the other hand in no wise 
disturbed by the protests called forth in an 
opposite quarter by his presence at Exeter Hall, 
or by the charge that he was thereby fanning 
the flame of agrarian agitation. That his name 
should be coupled with that of Mr. Arch gave 
him, he declared, no displeasure. He believed 
him to be honest and good, his cause to be well 
founded, and trusted in his using no means to 


promote it other than those sanctioned by the 
law of God and of the land. 

That it was becoming increasingly understood 
that the Archbishop of Westminster was to be 
counted upon as an active and outspoken sup 
porter of popular rights, is proved by another 
invitation, received two years later, to deliver a 
lecture to the members of the Leeds Mechanics 
Institute ; on which occasion he made a public 
and full declaration of his convictions on social 
matters. 1 

Selecting the subject of the Dignity and Rights 
of Labour, the Archbishop began his address 
by an explanation of the motives leading him to 
accept a call to launch upon a venture so far 
beyond his ordinary navigation, and into a deep 
he had not sounded ; proceeding to reiterate the 
views he was holding with a firmer and firmer 
grasp as to the duty and necessity of co-operation 
between men of divers opinions for the good of 
the nation to which all alike belonged. To meet 
upon what the president of the Institute had 
termed the neutral platform, so entirely fell in 
with what I conceive to be a high dictate of our 

x Mr. Purcell places the delivery of this lecture in 1877. Mr. 
Hutton ascribes it to March 1876. It may possibly have been 
repeated; but the date of January 28, 1874, is that affixed to it 
in the 2nd Vol. of Miscellanies, published in 1877. 


duty that I could no longer hesitate. I mean 
this that in everything of private life, and every 
thing of domestic and civil and political life, we 
have but one common interest the welfare of our 
common country. If there be divergencies, as 
there must be, as always have been, and as I fear 
there always will be, it seems to me that it is the 
duty of every one of us to strive that they should 
be suspended at least in every region of our 
public and private life wheresoever it is possible. 

The subject he had chosen for treatment was 
one upon which his opinions were likely to con 
flict with many of the men whose judgment he 
would have valued. But it was no part of the 
Archbishop s theory of life and conduct to be 
over careful in the avoidance of rocks or reefs or 
chances of collision ; nor was he used to measure 
his language with a view to conciliate public 

Clearing the way by the statement that labour, 
rather than capital or even skill, was the cause of 
wealth and the origin of greatness, he proceeded 
further to the definition of labour itself. When 
worthy of the name, it was the honest exertion of 
the powers of body and mind for a man s own 
good and that of his neighbour the law of exist 
ence, the law also of development. Capital, on 


the other hand, was not money alone, but the 
muscular, mental, manual, and mechanical power 
created by labour. For the honest labourer, 
unskilled as well as skilled, he claimed the 
respect due to the dignity of his state and of his 

In dealing, after the dignity, with the rights of 
labour, he found himself confronted with more 
complicated questions ; being careful to preface 
what he said by the explanation that he was not 
communistic, and making a not unimportant 
distinction had no will to be revolutionary. 
For labour he claimed the rights of property. 
With it the possessor could buy and sell, he could 
exchange it, set a price upon it. ( I claim for 
labour (and the skill which is always acquired by 
labour) the rights of capital. It is capital in the 
truest sense/ It was, in fact, live money. Dead 
capital and live must be united. Whatever rights 
were possessed by capital, labour no less possessed. 

Labour, moreover, had, amongst its rights, the 
right of liberty the right of the labourer to de 
termine where and for whom he would work. 
Though in no capricious or extortionate fashion, 
he must be judge and controller of his own life, 
paying the penalty should he abuse this freedom. 
He had also the right to decide upon what wages 


he could subsist, again paying the penalty should 
he price his labour too high. 

Labour had another right that of protecting 
itself. Throughout the history of civilisation 
trades and professions had always been united 
together in societies and fellowships. It seems 
to me that this is a sound and legitimate social 
law. I can conceive nothing more entirely in 
accordance with natural rights and with the higher 
jurisprudence than that those who have one 
common interest should unite together for the 
promotion of that interest. Such unions had 
always been recognised by the legislature ; em 
ployers or employed, those possessing the dead 
capital of money or the live capital of labour, had 
all been admitted to possess the same rights ; and 
so long as men were honestly submissive to the 
supreme reign of law, they were justified in form 
ing themselves into self-protecting organisations. 

And then, whilst professing his adherence to the 
laws of supply and demand, free exchange and the 
safety of capital, the Archbishop proceeded to avow 
his dissent, on one point at least, from the prin 
ciples of political economy. Political economists 
denounced parliamentary or state interference 
with any form soever of supply and demand. He 
held, on the contrary, that there were cases in 


which the principle of Free Trade was met and 
checked by a moral condition. Such, for example, 
was the question of the price of intoxicating drink. 
Such was the question of the limitation of hours 
of labour. 

Were the object and end of existence that Eng 
land should undersell all other nations, well and 
good. But if the domestic life of the people were 
more vital, if the peace and purity of homes were 
sacred, then hours of labour must be regulated and 
limited. Already, at the instance of Lord Shaftes- 
bury, the principle of interference had been 
admitted by the regulation of child labour. 
Parliament should go further in the same direc 
tion. The question must be faced calmly, justly, 
and with a willingness to put labour and the profits 
of labour second to the moral state and the 
domestic life of the whole working population. 

And lastly he touched briefly upon the miser 
able condition of the London poor. * These things/ 
he said, cannot go on ; these things ought not to 
go on. The accumulation of wealth in the land, 
the piling up of wealth like mountains, in the 
possession of classes or of individuals, cannot go 
on if these moral conditions of our people are not 
healed. No commonwealth can rest on such 


In conclusion, nothing, he asserted, could limit 
the rights of the working man, except wrongdoing. 
If he committed a wrong action, the strong might 
retaliate. If he did no wrong, the supreme power 
of law was there to protect him. 

In the principles thus enunciated there was no 
attempt at originality or novelty. That they 
should be avowed by a Roman Catholic dignitary, 
invited to address a body of British workmen, 
formed in some sort a new departure, and was as 
certain to draw forth unfavourable comment in 
some quarters as it was to commend the Arch 
bishop to those struggling for their legitimate 
rights. But from first to last he never shrank 
from the open expression of his opinions, more 
especially with regard to what he described in the 
last year of his life as the three gangrenes in 
evitably destroying the life of the English common 
wealth its human and domestic life for the 
enrichment of a handful of capitalists and land 
owners. These three plagues were the land laws 
since Henry VIII. and Charles II. ; the relations of 
capital and labour during the last hundred years 
of selfish political economy ; and the drink trade, 
fostered by capitalists and favoured by Govern 
ment for the sake of revenue. 

Having once set his hand to the redress of 


social evils, he was to know little more rest. 
Work was soon crowding upon him. All were 
eager to enlist his sympathy and support; nor was 
any question dealing with a wrong to be set right, 
an injury to be repaired, an evil to be denounced 
or combated, beyond the sphere of his labours. 
Not to mention his great Temperance work, to 
which a separate chapter will be devoted, it is 
difficult to understand, bearing in mind the duties 
appertaining to his ecclesiastical position, how any 
one man can have combined avocations so many 
and various. Whether by means of his pen, or 
personally, he was ever in the field ; and in order 
to form a conception of the manifold nature of his 
toil and the inclusiveness of his interests, it may 
be well, though out of chronological order, to 
enumerate some of his appearances on public 
platforms or intercourse with public bodies. 

During the year 1872, acting as president at the 
International Prison Congress, he struck the key 
note of the line he had marked out for himself on 
these occasions, by making an open avowal of his 
deliberate intention of working in conjunction 
with men of opinions differing from his own, and 
of performing such duties as the present one as 
neutrally as possible. Holding a profound con 
viction that on all those occasions which laid on 


my conscience a public duty, I am bound to be as 
outspoken I may say as explicit and determined 
in expressing what I believe as my office 
requires ; so on all other occasions, when I am not 
bound to make these declarations or to bear these 
testimonies, I desire to identify myself with the 
majority of those I love and respect. But outside 
the circle and the pale of that one subject, I know 
of no other relating to our political, our social, our 
industrial welfare, in which it is not in my power 
to work with the same energy, and the same entire 
devotion of heart and feeling, as any other man in 

After that fashion he worked until the end of his 
life. Following upon the Prison Congress came 
the meeting of the Agricultural Labourers Union. 
In 1874 he occupied the chair at a meeting of the 
Society of Arts ; and received in 1881 a deputation 
of agricultural labourers who, waiting upon him 
with reference to the Irish Land Bill, obtained his 
sanction to the Land League, so long as it 
operated within the limits of the law, human and 
divine. At the celebration, at the Guildhall in 
August 1884, of the Jubilee of the British and 
Foreign Anti-Slavery Society, he was one of the 
speakers, denouncing in impassioned language 
the horrors still taking place, and pointing out the 


obligations binding England, above every other 
nation, to give freedom to all men. During the 
same year he was working on the Royal Com 
mission for securing the better housing of the 
poor. More regular in his attendance at the 
meetings of the Commission than any others, with 
few exceptions, of its members, he joined in 
drawing up the Report embodying the results of 
its labours in 1885 ; delivering in addition an 
address at the Mansion House on the intolerable 
evil in question, and the obstacles to be overcome 
before it could be removed. 

In May 1886, he took part in meetings, both of 
the National Association for Promoting State- 
directed Colonisation, and of the Shop Hours 
League and Trades Parliamentary Association. 
The shortening of hours of labour had long been 
a subject of interest to him, having no desire 
nearer to my heart than to see your lot, which is 
heavy indeed, lightened and brightened by any 
effort which can be made. 

No question, in fact, relating to the welfare of 
the poor, men, women, and children, found him 
indifferent. He had time and leisure for each. 
Not a class or section of the people were out of 
the range of his sympathies, or denied a right to 
count upon his help. As the years went by, the 


numbers of those who made good their claim to 
it was ever on the increase. In 1875 the highest 
ecclesiastical dignity had been conferred upon him, 
and he was earning the name of the people s 


Elevation to the Cardinalate Manning s Position in Eng 
land Poverty of the Church his Financial Position. 

IT was when he had been labouring at West 
minster for close upon ten years that the highest 
distinction, save one, that the Church has to 
give was bestowed upon Archbishop Manning. 
On March 6, 1875, n ^ s elevation to the Cardinalate 
was announced. Surprise had been felt in some 
quarters that the step had been so long delayed, 
and the news was received with a general satis 
faction marking the position he had achieved in 
the esteem of his countrymen. The temper of 
England had changed since the days not so long 
ago when a tempest of indignation had swept 
over it at the time of the papal aggression. 
Public opinion had indeed shifted with curious 
rapidity ; and the toleration won by the chief 
representative of a hierarchy whose establishment 
had given so much offence was exemplified to a 
singular degree by the precedence accorded to the 
Archbishop of Westminster at the Union Jubilee 
at Oxford in 1873, when the place assigned to 



him, below the Primate and the Chancellor of 
the University, was above all the other guests, 
including the Bishop of Oxford. Anger and fear 
alike had passed away ; partly no doubt owing to 
the calming action of time, partly to the tact and 
skill of the pilot who steered the vessel. Where 
soever it had been possible, he had sedulously 
avoided friction between the body he represented 
and the mass of the nation. Wherever it was 
possible he was ready to recognise the justice 
accorded to his flock, as well as to vindicate their 
right to trust and confidence. In small things, 
no less than in great, his anxiety in these respects 
was apparent, whether shown in a public acknow 
ledgment of the fairness displayed in the treatment 
of Roman Catholic prisoners and pauper children ; 
or by a warning to the congregation assembled 
for the opening of a church at Canterbury to 
refrain, in visiting the Cathedral, from anything 
wounding to the susceptibilities of its present 
possessors. The course he pursued when made the 
object of an attack on the part of Mr. Newdegate, 
is an instance of his determination to leave un- 
refuted no assertion calculated to injure him in 
the eyes of the public. It might appear that the 
accusation that of a quasi beatification of Guy 
Fawkes and his friends would have been safely 


left unanswered. But it may be that, in consider 
ing it worth while to publish, through his solicitors, 
a formal repudiation of the charge, the Archbishop 
gauged more correctly the degree of credulity 
inherent in Englishmen. 

The result of his line of conduct was now 
apparent ; and Sir George Jessel, Master of the 
Rolls, expressed a wide-spread sentiment when, 
congratulating him upon his new dignity, he added 
his conviction that few Englishmen, whatever might 
be their religious opinions, would not look upon 
his elevation to the Cardinalate in the light of a 
high compliment to their country. From the tone 
of the press it is plain that men were watching with 
a kindly interest what was termed by the Times 
the great experiment inaugurated by the appoint 
ment of in a certain sense the first English 
Cardinal since Reformation days the first that is 
who, of English blood and English tradition, would 
be surrounded by Englishmen and would have to 
fight his battles on English principles and with 
English means and ways. 

In similar language, and using slightly equi 
vocal terms of praise, the Spectator expressed 
satisfaction at the honour conferred upon a man 
who, pre-eminently English, was proud of his 
nationality. Though Wiseman had striven to act 


and speak as belonging to the nation, the writer 
added that he had never succeeded in wholly divest 
ing himself of a foreign character. With his suc 
cessor it was a different matter. An Englishman 
amongst Englishmen, he was at home. As a con 
vert from the National Church it might have been 
expected that, holding extreme views on theo 
logical questions, he would have rendered the body 
he had joined unpopular. But such anticipations 
had been falsified. * We pay a high compliment to 
his tact when we say, in no offensive spirit, that 
he knows how to come round his countrymen. 

Such was the position he had won in the eyes 
of the indifferent public after ten years of promi 
nence, during which he had often been called 
upon to act as the representative of principles 
antagonistic to those of the great majority 
of Englishmen. To himself, apart from the 
gratified ambition persistently ascribed to him, 
his promotion must have been welcome, alike as 
a mark of personal affection from a friend, of 
recognition of loyal service from a master, and as 
enhancing and widening his opportunities. It 
was a token of approbation from headquarters 
none could gainsay, lending additional weight to 
his power and influence. 

He had started for Rome before the news was 


made public, and it was at the English college 
that the tidings were formally communicated to 
him ; when the words he spoke in response were 
eminently characteristic. The honour being be 
stowed upon him at what he considered a time of 
danger to the church, he felt himself, he said, told 
off in the eyes of the world on a forlorn hope, but 
it was a forlorn hope certain of victory. In this 
sanguine spirit lay one of his chief sources of 
strength. It was true that, so far as the question 
of the day that of the Temporal Power was 
concerned, his expectation of victory was to 
prove fallacious ; but, defeated on one part of 
the battlefield, he only transferred his flag to 
another, never doubting that ultimate defeat, to 
the man whose enemies were the enemies of the 
Almighty God, was impossible. 

He did not linger long in Rome. The necessary 
ceremonies over, he returned to England invested 
with his new dignity, and by April had taken up 
anew his life s work at Westminster. 

Whilst the distinction conferred upon him had 
undeniable advantages, it is not impossible that it 
brought with it certain cares and anxieties, in the 
increase of expenditure necessary to maintain the 
position of a Prince of the Church. He was not a 
rich man, and his slender income had been already 


reduced by the demands upon it. Nor would he 
have had it otherwise. His glory, he once said, 
was to live for the poor, to labour for the poor, 
to die for the poor, and to be buried with the poor. 
For riches he had no desire and no use. His habits 
were simple to frugality, and he had few wants. 
What was less common than personal indifference 
to material prosperity, was his recognition of the 
advantages to his Church of poverty. For her, 
no more than for himself, did he covet wealth. 
Poverty was, in his eyes, a security for her 
energy and purity, and he openly rejoiced that, 
in the richest of all nations, the Catholic Church 
was poor. Unestablished, disendowed, she was 
the more free to do her work. My Church and 
I/ he once told Monseigneur Darboy, * date, thank 
God, from the ages of Christianity when the Church 
was poor but free/ In a speech delivered at Bir 
mingham he had again made his boast of her 
position, unfriended and independent. She came 
in this land, he said, not in union with royalty, not 
by statute of Parliament, not by favour of aristo 
cracy ; but in poverty was united to the people 
the church of the poor all the world over. He 
was ever a consistent advocate of the disestab 
lishment of the Church in France, in order that 
she might thus regain liberty and independence. 


Go/ he told French priests who visited him, 
* go, ask for freedom to share the lot of the people ; 
eat their bread, touch their heart, and conquer 
their souls for God. 

To be poor is one thing. To be harassed by 
the difficulty of meeting inevitable expenses is 
another. But any anxiety the new Cardinal may 
have felt with regard to the costs involved in his 
elevation was promptly removed by the spontaneous 
liberality of the richer members of his flock. It 
was known that the allowance of 4.00 a year 
made by the Vatican to Cardinal Wiseman, in 
order that he might be enabled to maintain the 
dignity of his office, had been an exceptional grant 
and would not be renewed. Under these circum 
stances a private subscription was set on foot, with 
the result that a sum of between six and seven 
thousand pounds was presented to the new 
Cardinal. The letter, addressed to the Duke of 
Norfolk, in which he acknowledged the gift, 
may in part be given here, as setting forth the 
financial position of a man who in spite of the 
office he filled, or rather by reason of it, had 
only been saved by private generosity from 
something approaching to pecuniary embarrass 

Expressing his grateful appreciation of the 


fashion in which the gift had been made, without 
any appeal to the general public or noising abroad 
of the matter, he proceeded to make a statement 
upon questions of money. Some two or three 
years ago, in a circular letter, I told you that I 
have no shame in begging for the spiritual need of 
the diocese, or for the Cathedral, but that I could 
not beg for anything which seemed to confer a 
personal benefit on myself. I hope there was no 
pride in this ; if there be, I hope it may be for 
given. But in the work of true friendship which 
you have now fulfilled towards me, I say at once 
that anything beyond a private communication, 
eliciting with equal privacy an unconstrained 
spontaneous offering of free will, would have 
caused me great regret. That he would have 
been relieved of the heavy expenses attending his 
elevation he had not doubted, since it had been 
done before in similar cases ; but that help would 
be afforded towards his increased charges in the 
future had never entered his thoughts. And in 
recognition of the consideration and kindness 
shown him, he went on to explain the difficulties 
attending the financial position of the Archbishop 
of Westminster, hitherto known to few persons. 

On his being made Archbishop, not only had 
the provision granted to his predecessor from 


Rome ceased, but the mensal fund had been 
divided with the diocese of Southwark. Had 
he not, therefore, possessed a very narrow income 
of his own, there would have been a yearly 
deficit of some hundreds. With the little I 
possessed, the See has never failed, year by year, 
to meet its expenses. But without my private 
means and they have yearly become less in the 
work of the diocese, to which they will be 
altogether left the income of the See would not 
have sufficed. For the first time it was now 
enabled to meet its inevitable costs. 

Such was the explanation he furnished to the 
men whose liberality had drawn it forth. So long 
as the need had pressed upon him, he had borne 
the burden in silence. Only when it had been 
removed did he speak. But in spite of the 
generosity of the Duke and his friends, the poor 
man s Cardinal was and remained poor ; and this 
fact should be borne in mind. It is easy to 
exaggerate both the advantages and the dis 
advantages of material prosperity. It is also easy 
to judge harshly and unjustly of those who may 
be using the very position due to wealth as means 
to an end. Nevertheless it is hard to deny, that, 
save in exceptional cases, wealth has a tendency to 
interpose a barrier, not only between ease and want, 


but between the rich and the comparatively poor. 
Each grade of society has its language, its customs 
and its habits, and in each a stranger, whether 
coming from above or below, remains a stranger, 
liable to be treated with a certain reserve. The 
consciousness, penetrating to the minds of the 
struggling poor around him, that the Cardinal 
Archbishop, Prince of the Church though he was, 
was living in careful economy, spending nothing 
that could be spared upon himself, nothing upon 
private gratification, may have been in part the 
cause of the ascendancy he maintained both over 
their hearts and their imagination. For this 
reason it has seemed worth while to enter at some 
length into the financial question. A passage in an 
autobiographical note six years later may close 
the subject. God knows, he wrote in 1881, 
what little patrimony I had has long ago been 
laid up in His hands ; and that if I die, as I hope, 
without debts, I shall die without a shilling. 


Temperance Work the United Kingdom Alliance- 
Gradual Development of Cardinal Manning s Views 
Total Abstinence. 

OF the purely philanthropic work done by Cardinal 
Manning, that connected with temperance was 
unquestionably the most important ; and he him 
self has left it upon record that nothing in his 
public life had given him greater satisfaction. 
During the years whilst, before his consecration, 
he had laboured amongst the London poor, he 
had seen enough of their condition to render him 
acutely and painfully conscious of the urgent 
necessity of employing every available method of 
combating what he regarded as pre-eminently the 
cause of wickedness and misery amongst them ; 
but it was, according to his own statement, 
through the United Kingdom Alliance that he 
became for the first time fully aroused to the 
greatness and extent of the evil. Speaking in the 
year 1882, he said that he had to thank that body 
for having drawn his attention to the subject some 
fifteen years earlier, when, after a long life already 



spent, believing myself to know the condition of 
the people, as I have no doubt a multitude of 
good men do believe at this moment that they 
thoroughly know what is the state and danger of 
our population, I for the first time came to a 
knowledge of the real condition of the people, and the 
real demoralising power of this great drink traffic. 
I came to this knowledge through a deputation of 
good men members of the United Kingdom 
Alliance who wrote to me, and requested an 
interview. They came to my house, and the 
arguments they laid before me aroused my 
attention, and from that day I trace the whole 
knowledge that I possess, and I may say an 
intense feeling of indignation, and the resolution, 
as long as life lasts, never to stint or spare in word 
or deed to help the United Kingdom Alliance. 

Knowledge first ; indignation next ; lastly, 
unwearied work and co-operation. This was the 
result of that memorable interview. Yet, a year 
before it had taken place, the Archbishop had 
appointed a committee to enquire into the subject 
of drink, and to consider the means to be employed 
to meet the evil. A report had followed recom 
mending the formation of a society ; but a society 
of which one rule alone out of six dealt with total 
abstinence, and then only to apply the remedy to 


persons habitually under the influence of intoxi 
cating liquor. 

The following year, and shortly before the 
interview with the deputation, a further step was 
taken, affording evidence that, if his knowledge 
was still incomplete, it was sufficient to forbid the 
Archbishop to remain inactive. His present 
measure was the issue of a pastoral containing a 
pledge binding whosoever signed it to refrain, for 
the space of one year, from entering a public 
house on Saturday nights or Sundays. Next 
came the deputation from the United Kingdom 
Alliance, headed by Dr. Dawson Burns, its 
Metropolitan Superintendent, who, in giving an 
account of the interview, testified to the anxiety 
displayed by the Archbishop to listen and learn. 
The claims of the great temperance organisation 
were pressed upon him, the Archbishop replying 
with a frank recognition of the importance of the 
movement represented by his visitors, and 
admitting the services he would personally be 
enabled to render to his own poor, could he see 
his way to join it. At present, however, this was 
not the case. He was not strong ; his doctor 
insisted upon his taking a small quantity of wine ; 
and he added what many honest advocates of 
temperance are loath to allow that he did not 


feel justified in publicly advocating total abstin 
ence to his very poor people, who had so many 
hardships to undergo, whilst forced to confess at 
the same time that wine was a necessity to 

What he could do he was prepared to do ; and 
in the following October he attended a meeting 
of the Alliance in Manchester, and there delivered 
a speech denoting his zeal in the cause of temper 
ance, being nevertheless careful to commit himself 
to no doctrine on the subject going beyond the 
convictions he held at that time. That the liquor 
traffic was an abominable evil was certain ; the 
Alliance was promoting a measure he was able 
cordially to support, and he went to Manchester 
to say so. Further in the direction of total 
abstinence, he neither went nor professed to go, 
and his progress continued to be slow and cautious. 

In 1868 he again received a visit from Dr. 
Dawson Burns, accompanied on this occasion by 
an American Temperance Reformer, Mr. Edward 
Delavan by name, who made an attempt to induce 
him to admit that the evil was inherent in the 
drink itself. It was unsuccessful. That doctrine, 
the Archbishop replied, had been condemned by the 
Church. It was the doctrine of the Manichaeans ; 
nor was he convinced by Dr. Dawson Burns, who 


eagerly interposed, to point out that his friend s 
argument had been misunderstood, and that no 
such doctrine was implied. The Archbishop 
smiled. You were very quiet, he said, and I 
suspect quiet people. 

Though for some three or four years longer 
he maintained the same attitude of dissent from 
the extremists of the temperance advocates, a 
Pastoral belonging to the year 1871 contained the 
deliberate and emphatic expression of his estimate 
of the evil at work ; not only in its more palpable 
forms, but especially in the effect produced by 
habitual excess in the matter of drink upon the 
educated and wealthy classes. Excess in wine, 
he pointed out, was a thing distinct from drunken 
ness, and was indulged in by many persons 
guiltless of the last, and never suspected of it It 
was a secret pestilence. Addressing himself, not 
to the poor, and the rude, and the turbulent, whose 
riot is in the streets, but to the rich and the refined 
and the educated . . . sheltered by the high 
civilisation of our social life from all grossness, 
and who would choose rather to die than to be 
marked by an act of excess, or even suspected of 
it, he boldly made his charge against them in this 
matter. If excess in drink, tolerable in none, 
could be tolerated in any, it might be borne with 


in the labouring poor, exhausted by toil and taken 
unawares in the thousand temptations which 
surround them. In others it was intolerable. 

The Pastoral was a prelude of what was to 
come. The Archbishop was soon to take a 
further step, and one determining the lines upon 
which his crusade against intemperance was 
carried on until the end of his life. Early in 
1872 Dr. Dawson Burns received a letter, request 
ing him to pay a visit to Archbishop s House. 

I want to tell you something/ the Archbishop 
wrote, that I am sure will please you. 

What that was Dr. Dawson Burns, on obeying 
the summons, learnt. 

I want to tell you what I have done/ said the 
Archbishop ; I have signed the pledge. I have 
found it necessary to take a step in advance. I 
have been asked to speak on this subject by some 
of our people who are employed in a factory at 
Southwark, and I cannot go to them and tell 
them to do anything but to give up the drink. 
It is the only thing that will do them any good. 
But I cannot tell them to do that if I have not 
done it myself, and so I have signed the pledge. 

Thus he entered, fully and whole-heartedly, 
upon the work he never abandoned so long as 
life lasted, and upon a field in which some of his 


greatest victories were won. In the May of that 
same year he made public confession of his con 
victions as to the effect of alcohol upon the will, 
gave an account of the gradual process by which 
he had arrived at his conclusions upon the subject, 
and at his ultimate realisation that strong drink 
was opposed to the development of man s best 
nature and faculties. From that time onwards he 
was the eager co-operator with all engaged in 
temperance work. He was large-minded on the 
one side, in regard to this work, and large-hearted 
on the other. He took in the whole needs of the 
case, if temperance were to triumph, and did not 
allow his views to be contracted or his sympathies 
to be narrowed by other considerations. His 
public advocacy such is the testimony of the 
writer of a leading article in the Alliance News^ 
when death had at last deprived the cause of one 
of its chief promoters * his public advocacy was 
an immense advantage to the cause, but perhaps 
still more valuable was the weight of his private 
influence, and the aid of his wise counsels in 
seasons of emergency. 

His help was never lacking whenever it 
could be of assistance. At Exeter Hall he 
addressed meetings again and again, was fore 
most in opposition to the Compensation clauses, 


and frequently expressed his convictions by 
means of articles in the magazines and reviews. 
At a meeting connected with the Temperance 
Hospital, he took the opportunity of deprecating 
the use of alcohol as a medicine if it could be 
dispensed with, adding that he had come to the 
conclusion that it could. In this last respect, 
his convictions only strengthened with years. 
A conspiracy, he once told his audience at 
a temperance meeting, had been formed against 
him. When he was lying ill at Paris, a rumour 
had gained currency that he had been ordered 
to drink wine and had obeyed. Even the 
League of the Cross had been deluded by the 
report. Let its members never believe any 
thing of the kind again. In his last illness his 
firmness in refusing stimulants was said to have 
interposed difficulties in the way of his treat 

He brought to the service of the cause he had 
embraced an enthusiasm stigmatised by opponents 
as that of a fanatic. Had I not taken the vow of 
abstinence, he is quoted as saying, I should not 
dare to present myself before my Maker ; and 
presiding over a meeting held for the purpose of 
forming a new association, he recalled the fact 
that the last act of Father Mathew was to receive 


the pledge from those who stood round his death 
bed. I desire no better end for my reverend 
brethren around me/ added the Cardinal c no 
better end for myself. 

Reports of his doings reached Rome, and an 
explanation was demanded. It took the form of 
a report on drunkenness, horrifying to those not 
acquainted with the condition of the London 
poor. In the Lord s name, go on/ came the 
reply from the Vatican. 

Enthusiasm begets enthusiasm. To call in 
cold blood upon men to relinquish in cold blood 
what has been to many of them a chief source of 
enjoyment, however debased, a solace in hardship 
and suffering, would be difficult and probably in 
effectual. The fervour of an apostle is needed 
to create the corresponding temper of mind and 
spirit in those upon whom it is brought to bear, 
and to render the required sacrifice, not indeed 
easy, but possible. To his mission the Archbishop 
brought that fervour, the passionate zeal arising 
from the conviction that upon the result of his 
appeal might depend the salvation or the destruc 
tion, body, soul and spirit, of the men and women 
to whom it was addressed. From the day when 
he set his hand to the work, he spared in it neither 
physical nor mental labour ; even his autumn 


holidays being spent for years, and until in 
creasing age made it impossible, in carrying the 
war against drink into its northern strongholds, 
where he went from town to town preaching the 
gospel of temperance. 

He had, at the first, but few active or convinced 
coadjutors amongst those of his own faith. Some 
indeed there were who proved most zealous co- 
operators in the work. But, looking back at the end 
of his career and reviewing his labours, the Cardinal 
has left it upon record, that for years he had stood 
almost alone. One man, nevertheless, can do 
much, when he is a Manning, and the great 
League of the Cross was the monument of the 
work accomplished. 

Before arranging his methods of attacking the 
gigantic evil with which he had to deal, he made 
himself personally acquainted with the strength 
of the enemy. Not content to receive his facts 
at second hand, he visited, attended by a single 
priest, the slums of Drury Lane, and learned to 
measure the forces arrayed against him before 
settling upon his plan of campaign. When that 
plan was matured, it took the form of the founda 
tion of the organisation which, under his presi 
dency, proved so astonishing a success. 

Started in the course of the same year 1872 


in which he had formally accepted the principle 
of total abstinence as a working basis, the 
League of the Cross began in a meeting in the 
schoolroom of the Italian church, Hatton Gar 
dens, where the priests had long been labouring 
to carry on the work inaugurated by Father 

Looking upon the crowded audience, collected 
from all parts of London, Who is there here, 
asked the Archbishop, that took the pledge from 
Father Mathew ? then, as some seventeen hands 
were held up, tell me/ he enquired, what we 
can do to restore his work amongst us ? 

Call upon the clergy to take the lead/ was the 
answer, and to guide us. 

I will call upon no man/ replied the Arch 
bishop, to do what I am not prepared to do 
myself; and I, as it is my duty as your pastor 
and your Bishop, will be your leader. 

I hope/ he said four years later, giving, at a 
meeting in Exeter Hall, an account of the origin 
of the League of the Cross, I hope I have kept 
my word, and God helping me, it shall not be 

Nor was it. The work then started was 
never discontinued so long as the Archbishop 
drew breath. The eye of the master was always 


upon it, his personal care fostering it. It was set 
on foot at once ; a meeting in October of this 
same year on Clerkenwell Green being already the 
fifth of a series ; when, standing in the rain amidst 
a crowd numbering some four or five thousand, he 
enrolled hundreds of new recruits in the League 
as they knelt before him. Temperance work 
was never permitted to be crowded out by 
other interests, however engrossing. From Rome, 
whither he had gone to be admitted into the sacred 
College, he wrote expressing his disappointment 
at his enforced absence from the meeting of the 
League to be held in Exeter Hall on St. Patrick s 
Day, and sending his blessing, with messages of 
admonition and encouragement, to its members. 
Again, after an absence from England extending 
over nearly six months, when, in 1878, he 
had been detained in Rome by the illness and 
death of Pope Pius IX., he is found, less than a 
fortnight after his return, at St. Anne s, Spital- 
fields, enrolling in the League of the Cross five 
hundred working boys, girls, and children. Even 
in the description of the scene supplied by 
the Times, the note of emotion is curiously felt 
the Cardinal deeply affected/ the children proud 
and happy, offering their special thanks, in an 
address of welcome, that to them his first visit on 


his return to England had been paid ; and the 
Cardinal in his reply telling his hearers that he 
would prize their address as far dearer and more 
pleasing than any congratulations he had ever 

So he laboured. And his labour was not fruit 
less. Summarising, in later years, the progress 
made, he was able to state that thirty branches of 
the League then existed in London, besides nearly 
twenty elsewhere, and that its four yearly festivals 
had been like the four solemnities of the church. 

No thought, no care, no toil, had been spared 
to ensure the success of the new organisation. 
In its arrangements the founder showed the eye 
of an artist for effect, combined with the percep 
tion of a man of the world and a student of 
human nature of the uses to which outward 
display can be put. More important still was his 
power of adapting his language to his audience 
and of touching their hearts. On August 24th, 
1874, was held the first of the great demonstra 
tions of the League which, becoming one of 
its distinguishing features, were so effectual in 
impressing the imagination of men, and in 
rendering them proud of the body they had 
joined. In the opera theatre of the Crystal 
Palace, the Archbishop addressed a meeting, 


afterwards speaking to the crowds in the gardens 
without. As he talked of the curses attendant 
upon drink, of homes desolated and of wrecked 
lives, the contagion of his enthusiasm and of his 
pity infected the listening multitudes, and men 
sobbed in response. It is easy to scoff at such 
scenes, easy to hold up to scorn the emotionalism 
displayed. In taking account of the practical 
effect of the sober and strenuous labour of which 
they were no more than the occasional effer 
vescence, the outcome and accompaniment, it is 
not so easy to deny that emotionalism, the result 
of an appeal to the imagination and to the heart, 
has its legitimate use in investing with its glamour 
the hard and steep path of sacrifice and renuncia 

The League was intended to act as a preventive, 
as well as a curative, organisation. Thousands 
of children were enrolled in it, nor was it limited 
to those amongst their elders who might be said 
to stand in serious need of acquiring habits of 
temperance. Don t say that, the Cardinal 
would plead when it was called a confraternity 
of penitent drunkards, I am its president and its 
chaplain. l 

And under its president and chaplain it grew 

1{ Cardinal Manning. A. W. Hutton, p. 163. 


and prospered. In its formation and arrange 
ment the Archbishop was not above learning a 
lesson from bodies from which, in some respects, 
he dissented ; and in the methods of the Salvation 
Army he discerned, as will be seen hereafter, a 
genuine and powerful method of grappling with 
evil and of marshalling the forces arrayed against 
it. The work of the Army, he once wrote, was 
too real to be any longer disregarded and ascribed 
to the devil ; and in the organisation of the League 
of the Cross he borrowed from the system proved 
so efficacious by General Booth. The new Society 
possessed officers of its own, military titles and 
badges ; and presently a bodyguard was formed, 
originating in the need of preventing undue 
pressure on the part of the throngs accustomed 
to crowd round the president. Proud to be 
designated the Cardinal s Guard, these men were 
distinguished from the rest of the members of the 
League by coloured sashes, and played a foremost 
part in the great yearly demonstrations. Year 
by year, the vast procession had its march past, 
watched by their chief, as with beating of drums 
they defiled before him ; and year by year the 
increasing numbers taking part in the show testi 
fied to the success of his work. The fame of it 
spread ; it became a phenomenon to be taken 


into account ; and to the effect of the machinery 
he had set in motion upon a class the London 
Irish standing in special need of it, the secular 
press bore witness : 

The cause of abstinence, said the Standard, 
1 has never found a more able advocate. 

Some lookers on, it is true, added a sneer to 
their recognition of the work done. It appeared 
to these commentators impossible to believe a 
Roman Catholic ecclesiastic to be moved by a 
pure desire to redeem the people committed to 
his care, and others, from the tyranny of drink, and 
to turn them into self-respecting members of 
society. Discerning in his unwearied labours 
for this ostensible object an ulterior motive, the 
Cardinal s power over the masses was strangely 
ascribed at a later date, by one newspaper, to 
his advocacy of temperance; and it was implied 
that he had made use of the engine of total 
abstinence as a means of gaining proselytes. He 
knew drink to be a destructive vice, temperance 
to be a virtue ; was aware that abstainers were 
increasing in number, and that religion would 
reap the benefit. Of course, the writer went on 
to say with a show of impartiality, some might 
rail at all this and object to such a line of conduct, 
but they were men who knew little of the masses 


and were ignorant of what must be done to win 
them. They might accuse [sic] the Cardinal who, to 
serve his flock and his church, deprived himself of 
enjoyment and rest, so long as he might bring 
over the former to his way of thinking. * But 
while they are laughing he is working, and with 
what success let any one who knows London and 
its people well attempt to estimate. 

The passage, with its covert insinuation of 
double dealing, is worth quoting as an instance 
of the attitude of some who looked on at the 
movement. The generous tribute of the United 
Kingdom Alliance and of its chief, Dr. Dawson 
Burns, may be allowed to dispose of the charge 
that the Cardinal had thrown himself into the 
cause of temperance as an underhand method of 

The distrust of such men was of little account. 
More serious was the fact that the course he pur 
sued was strongly disliked by not a few amongst 
his own brethren. In the summer of I884, 1 their 
disapproval found vent in a series of letters 
which, printed in the Tablet, were marked by 
unusual violence on the part of those opposed to 
the Cardinal s advocacy of total abstinence, one of 
the writers in particular rejoicing that public 

1 Not in 1888, as stated by Mr. Purcell. 


expression had at last been given to the reflections 
and conversations of thousands of Catholics against 
the uncatholic speeches and sentiments of fanatical 
teetotallers, and that the almost universal pro 
tests had found voice. For several weeks the 
attack was carried on with vigour, though not 
without reply on the part of the minority enlisted 
on their Archbishop s side the last letter printed 
before the correspondence was closed containing 
a singular suggestion, which might almost have 
been imagined to be the adroit device adopted by 
a partisan to discredit his opponents. Why, asked 
the writer, should the pledge not be taken as 
against beer and spirits, but not against wine, thus 
enabling those to whom it was administered to 
drink a little of the latter for their health s sake, 
whilst they would still perform an act of mortifica 
tion, and give an example which would bring them 
the blessing of God? In other and plainer 
language, why should not the poor be induced to 
abandon their luxuries, whilst the rich would 
remain in undisturbed possession of their own ? 

Very human in his susceptibilities, the Cardinal 
keenly resented the aspersions made upon him, 
not only by irresponsible writers but under a 
pseudonym by the Bishop of Nottingham. Dis 
approval, however, from the one quarter or the 


other, did no more than strengthen him in the 
position he had taken up. 

If we were ever on God s side in a battle/ he 
wrote to a priest who was a fellow-worker in 
the cause of temperance, and had thrown himself 
into the fray in the defence of his Archbishop, it 
is now, when we are using, z>., giving up, our 
Christian liberty for the salvation of souls. If 
others think to save more souls by using their 
liberty to drink wine, let us wait for the Last Day. 
I have borne years of reproval and shame in this 
matter, and I often say, "I am a fool for Christ s 
sake "... And now, do not fear. When I began, 
only two priests in London helped me. Now 
there are about forty . . . and almost all are 
doing something. Everything is going onward. 
God forbid that we, Catholic priests, should be 
left behind in self-denial for the love of souls by 
those who are not in the unity of the Truth. 

From the educated laity it appears that the 
Cardinal received scanty sympathy or help. I 
have piped to them and they have not danced, 
he once complained, there is not one gentleman 
who will give up one glass of sherry to help me in 
the battle. 

Besides the exception often taken to the funda 
mental principle on which the work was based, 


minor points of difference were the cause of friction 
in the management of the movement. Objections 
were made, as years went on, to the Cardinal s 
treatment of the men who went by the name of 
his bodyguard, and were, in some sort, charged 
with the supervision of the temperance work in 
the various districts of the diocese. His special 
delegates, they attended weekly at Westminster 
to make a personal report of their progress ; 
and it was rumoured that not only were they 
admitted to terms of overmuch equality with 
their chief, but that presuming on his favour 
they had been known to treat the priests of the 
missions in which their work lay with small 

Whether these charges were justified or not, 
dissension was probably unavoidable between the 
Cardinal s deputies, imbued with his principles 
and fired by his enthusiasm, and priests out of 
sympathy with the total abstinence movement, 
to whom they probably appeared in the light of 
unwelcome intruders. It was also natural that 
the intimacy existing between the Cardinal demo 
crat and the men of all classes to whom he was 
bound by the tie of a common interest, should be 
disliked by others. 

To reports furnished by these officers of the 


League, exaggerating or misrepresenting the 
sentiments of the priests with whom they came 
into collision, Cardinal Manning s biographer 
attributes the note, dated 1890, which he prints. 
It is fair to take the possibility he suggests into 
account ; but the statements then made by the 
Cardinal must nevertheless be regarded as his 
final and deliberate judgments. The question 
whether or not they were justified would be best 
tested by an examination and comparison of the 
present condition and efficiency of the League of 
the Cross, or of any like temperance organisation, 
with the period during which it enjoyed the super 
vision, direction, and support of its founder. 

* In the total abstinence movement/ he wrote, 
the aspiration of our people has been higher than 
that of the clergy. The chief discouragement has 
come from priests ... I have deliberately made 
myself " a fool for Christ s sake " in this matter, and 
set my face as a flint. When I thought in Paris 
that I might never come back in 1877, one of my 
happiest thoughts was that " we had saved many 
poor drunkards." I hope whoever comes after 
me will have the courage to face the criticism and 
the ridicule of not the fools only, but the half 
hearted wise. Our poor men are an example 
and a rebuke to us. They founded and have 


maintained the League of the Cross: we have 
only led it. 

For the rest, in this final note in reference to 
the League, a denial to the charges of his 
biographer as to his method of dealing with his 
subordinates, clerical and lay, seems to be given. 
Noting with thankfulness the increase in the 
number of priests who co-operated in the work of 
temperance those attending at the yearly demon 
strations amounting to about eighty the Cardinal 
explicitly declared that, though the League of the 
Cross had created a sort of vigilance society, it 
found fault with nobody, and that though total 
abstainers, even amongst the priests who occu 
pied the position of presidents, were in a minority, 
the men made no criticism. Were a priest known 
to be intemperate they would do so ; but they 
did not complain if he were not a total abstainer. 

With pardonable pride the Cardinal went on to 
describe the strength of the organisation its 
London branches, numbering over forty, his 1,400 
Guards and hundreds of boy Guards. The 
League/ he concluded, has taken hold of the 
people, especially the working men. It was this 
that gave me a hold in the Strike of last year, not 
only of my own men but also of the Englishmen, 
who were as two to one. I pray God that my sue- 


cessor will humbly and with his whole heart go into 
the midst of the people as I have tried to do, and 
will give to the League of the Cross a warm and 
encouraging countenance. 

The work done by the League amongst the 
young was to him a special cause of encourage 
ment. The old would go, but the new generation 
was furnishing recruits to fill the gaps; and he 
had the rash faith in the permanence of his work 
perhaps necessary to sustain effort and enthusiasm. 

When I was ill, he once said, after sickness 
had temporarily withdrawn him from his labours, 
1 heard that somebody had said " When he is gone, 
the League of the Cross will go." I said to 
myself, " No, the League of the Cross will not go. 
. . . Whatever will become of me, the League of 
the Cross will not die." 

The words, with their ring of happy confidence, 
are not without a pathetic significance. Yet, 
perhaps more than by any of his other work, he 
had proved by his labours in the cause of temper 
ance, what one man can do for a generation. 


Consistency Manning and the Temporal Power Early 
Views Change of Opinion Regret at the Policy of 
the Vatican. 

THERE are men who are called consistent. They 
form their opinions upon a subject, or a set of 
subjects, with consideration and care or without 
it ; and thenceforward resolutely refuse not in 
frequently as if refusal was a virtue to allow them 
to be modified, either by outward changes or by 
inward growth. It does not occur to such persons 
to re-consider their views in the light of increased 
experience. Their method has its advantages. 
It not only safeguards the man who pursues it 
from the charge of fickleness or caprice, but im 
parts a certain spurious strength to conviction, 
rendering it, as Hazlitt confessed of some of his own 
conclusions, as incorrigible to proof as need be. 

Others are not satisfied with this method of 
proceeding, and keep an open mind until the end. 
The final stage of their development is never 
reached until death puts the coping stone to the 

edifice of their faith ; they are prepared at all 


times to admit new factors into their outlook on 
life and on the conduct of life ; and to allow that 
former opinions, even if not altogether unfounded, 
have been rendered unworkable by the course of 
events. They refuse to be fettered by their own 
past. If I utter no word that I should like to 
unsay/ wrote St. Augustine, * I am nearer being a 
fool than a wise man. 

Cardinal Manning belonged to this last class. 
He was ready throughout to adapt his methods to 
his enlarged experience and widened knowledge. 
If consistency was a virtue, he held that it was 
also capable of becoming a vice and a disease. 
He had not shrunk, in theological matters, from 
cutting himself adrift from his ancient moorings, 
and in the secular sphere he acted in a like spirit. 

On two subjects in particular his opinions under 
went, as years passed by, a marked and notable 
change. These were the subjects of the Temporal 
Power of the Pope and Irish affairs. 

Into the first, mainly connected with his ecclesi 
astical position, it is not necessary here to enter at 
length. But the alteration effected in his attitude 
with regard to a question upon which he had felt 
so strongly ; the reasons for the change, and his 
fearless candour in avowing it, are too character 
istic of the man, too closely connected with his 


democratic sympathies and his methods, to be 
altogether omitted from the present study. 

The vehemence and passion with which the 
cause of the Temporal Power was taken up by 
many of its defenders may be difficult of compre 
hension to those to whom it may seem to lie alto 
gether outside the inner circle occupied by questions 
of vital importance to the Catholic Church. But 
it must be remembered that it is at all times hard 
to gauge or limit enthusiasm for what wears 
the guise of a principle ; and that principle was 
in this case represented by a spiritual sovereign 
commanding the devoted loyalty of those who 
owed him allegiance. Moreover, the instinct a 
healthy one on the whole bidding men rise up in 
defence of what is assailed, is inherent in human 
nature. The tragedy of many lives, it has been 
pointed out, is contained in the fact that they 
are doomed to be spent in combats in which defeat 
is not only inevitable, but destined ultimately to 
serve the very cause at issue : We are compelled 
by our moral nature to labour and die for a pre- 
doomed cause, even as our bodily nature struggles 
to the bitter end against the relentless forces of 
dissolution. 1 The great fire of London was the 
cleansing of the city, but what should be said of 

1 Oil and Wine. Rev. G. Tyrrell. 


the man who watched the conflagration with folded 
hands ? When failure follows upon effort, it is the 
few alone, far-sighted, wise, and faithful, who, 
having done their best to avert it, can accept the 
event as the judgment of God, and leave the issue 
to Him. So long as eyes are misted with passion 
or sorrow, it is difficult to discern the true character 
of what wears the disguise of misfortune, or to 
penetrate its incognito. Such passion and sorrow 
may account for the sentiments with which many 
men, and Manning amongst them, regarded the 
loss of the Temporal Power. 

He had espoused its cause, when it was first 
menaced, with so much violence as to incur censure 
at Rome ; certain statements in his lectures on the 
subject being considered at the least inopportune, 
and the lectures themselves being strangely enough 
threatened with the Index. Nor were his private 
utterances less unrestrained. The Italians have 
forced their way into Rome, he wrote in a letter 
of 1870, and as I believe that there is a God that 
judgeth the earth, so sure I am that their doom 
will not tarry. Confident in the ultimate triumph 
of the Holy See over the forces arrayed against its 
temporalities, he denounced its opponents in a 
fashion wholly unmodified by the fact that they 

were associated with principles of nationality and 



liberty peculiarly calculated to make their appeal 
to his personal sympathies. The letter he ad 
dressed to Mr. Cardwell, on the occasion of Gari 
baldi s visit to England in 1864, is couched in 
terms of scornful and vehement invective illus 
trative of his temper of mind at that date. Had 
he been called upon in later years to express a 
judgment upon the great Italian patriot it might 
have remained severe, but it is difficult to believe 
that his language would have been the same. On 
the more abstract point at issue, his views cer 
tainly underwent a marked change. Though he 
continued until the end to regard the taking of 
Rome as a legalised robbery, he was sagacious 
enough, where the infringement of no law, moral 
or divine, was involved, to adapt a policy to new 
conditions ; and sufficiently open-eyed to discover, 
in what he had regarded as an unmitigated evil, 
compensating advantages the advantages accru 
ing to a church robbed and disinherited of being 
thereby brought closer to those also robbed, also 
disinherited whom it was her mission to draw into 
the fold. Were she to be persecuted and spoiled, 
he wrote in 1883, she would be but the stronger 
and purer. A wealthy church would fare ill with a 
Commune, and be out of sympathy with the peoples. 
Time and experience had been necessary to 


produce this temper of mind. As the years had 
gone by, and no sign was perceptible portending 
the fulfilment of his anticipations that the Pope 
would be re-instated in his temporal sovereignty, 
the Cardinal s sanguine spirit had learnt to adjust 
itself after this fashion to the circumstances, and 
to find in them fresh grounds for hope. The past, 
he acknowledged, could not return. Were the 
Temporal Power ultimately restored, it would be 
under new conditions. The old dynastic world 
was moribund, a new world of the peoples was 
replacing it, and the ancient European Christen 
dom was widening into a Christendom embracing 
east, west, and south. 

Such being his later convictions, the attitude 
maintained at the Vatican was matter to him of 
keen regret. He was not the man to stand at the 
grave of a dead past, wasting precious time in vain 
laments ; and with his strong sense of the duties 
of citizenship, it was natural that he should be 
fully alive to the evils of a policy forbidding 
Catholics to take their due share in the public life 
of Italy, condemning them to an inertia only too 
likely to become habitual, and virtually depriving 
them of their civic and political rights. He had 
seen and felt the result, in England, of the dis 
abilities under which the Roman Catholic body 


had there long laboured. To his strenuous spirit 
it was grievous that the like disabilities should be 
voluntarily inflicted upon the Catholics of Italy ; 
and reckless of certain blame and possible mistrust, 
in quarters whence he would most have valued 
approval, he did not hesitate to urge upon Leo 
XIII. the withdrawal of the decree of Pius IX. pro 
hibiting participation in parliamentary affairs on 
the part of all who bowed to his authority. Let 
the Pope, he entreated, put his trust, not in kings 
and states, but in the people. His counsels were 
not permitted to prevail, and by the more extreme 
party at the Vatican he was not unnaturally re 
garded in the light of a renegade. They look 
upon me in Rome as an Italianissimo/ he once 
said. But he did not on that account abandon 
his position. To restore the Temporal Power by 
foreign intervention or by force of arms would be, 
in his opinion, to blot out in blood the Catholic 
faith in Italy. Not till God should change the 
hearts and minds of the Italian people was its 
restoration possible, and this miracle was not to 
be expected in the present generation. Adapting 
his outlook, therefore, to the exigencies of the 
times, he looked to a truce between Pope and 
King as the basis of future peace and prosperity. 
I am beginning, he answered those who charged 


him with the abandonment of the principles of 
twenty years, I am beginning to feel my feet in 
the Italian question. 

A private correspondence belonging to the year 
1889 may be accepted as supplying his final views 
upon this matter. The Italian nation was, he 
conceived, being lost, as the English had been lost 
before them, and by the same policy a course of 
action corresponding to that of the Peculiar People, 
who refused medicines. The Catholic population 
of Italy, like that of England under the penal laws, 
was exiled from experience, training, and education 
in political and public life. In his eyes the ne 
eletti ne elettori was a policy of abdication, the 
rising generation being thereby kept back from all 
paths of public life and service. In England the 
effect of the old exclusion was still apparent, even 
when all paths had been laid open ; and in Italy 
the result would be similar. In a note written 
about the same time he again drew a parallel from 
the past. The Spanish policy, the reign of James II., 
had forfeited the heart and trust of Englishmen, 
and so I fear it will be in Italy. The abdication 
of natural duty called abstention is not the mind 
of the Holy See, but of him that letteth, and will 
let, until he be broken out of the way. Quousque 


Of the unpopularity incurred at Rome by 
opinions so diametrically opposed to the dominant 
party there he was fully aware, but not for that 
reason did he remain passive. The cause of the 
Holy See was his own cause, and he could not 
refrain from pressing his views when, rightly or 
wrongly, he conceived that its vital interests were 
at stake. 


The Cardinal s Attitude towards the Irish Question Letter 
to Lord Grey Gradual Development of his Opinions 
He becomes an Advocate of Home Rule His Relations 
with Irish Members Monsignor Persico s Mission. 

ON a subject nearer home than that of the rela 
tions of the Holy See with the Italian Govern 
ment, the Cardinal s change of view was equally 
likely to make him enemies, and was avowed 
with the same openness and courage. This was 
upon the question of Ireland. 

In the eyes of a man naturally interested in all 
matters affecting the welfare of the Empire at 
large, and charged besides with the care of a 
large Irish population, the ever recurrent Irish 
difficulty could not fail to be of the first import 
ance. His position was not an easy one. Even 
at a time when he was far from holding the 
convictions he subsequently embraced, he had 
never ranged himself upon the side of the 
dominant race, supported by a large section of 
English Catholics. As early as 1866, he was 
mentioning in a letter to Monsignor Talbot that 



he had been informed by Archbishop Cullen that 
a chief obstacle in the way of uniting the English 
and Irish bishops was the Tablet the principal 
Catholic organ and that those it represented 
were assisting in the formation of an English 
party which would again divide English and Irish 
Catholics, as well as English Catholics amongst 
themselves. To deal with all these several parties 
in a spirit of fairness ; to attempt to put an 
end to racial antagonisms and class antipathies, 
was one of the tasks set before the demo 
cratic Archbishop ; nor was it to be performed 
without wounding susceptibilities on either 

One of his first public steps was calculated to 
alienate from him the confidence of a class he 
would specially have desired to conciliate ; and 
the issue of a Pastoral in condemnation of Fenian- 
ism roused a storm of indignation amongst a 
portion of his Irish flock. For some nights it was 
thought well to invoke the protection of special 
constables on behalf of churches and chapels 
threatened with incendiarism, and the wave of 
resentment included for a time the person of the 
Archbishop. Two years later his letter to Lord 
Grey made it clear that, whatever might be the 
objections he entertained towards the means 


adopted by some Irishmen to obtain the redress 
of their grievances, he was in no way to be 
ranked amongst the supporters of the oppressors 
of their country. In this document the opinions 
he held at this stage of his career are made plain, 
and it is interesting to compare them with his 
matured convictions twenty-five years later. 

Beginning by urging the gravity of the situa 
tion which, under-rated by some politicians, was 
pressed home to his own mind by direct and 
intimate contact with the Irish people, he ex 
pressed his persuasion that the movement then 
in progress was of a deeper, more permanent 
character than the risings of 1798 or 1803, and 
that it was gradually changing an integral part of 
the United Kingdom into a type which would not 
combine with the British or consolidate the unity 
of the realm. Two measures were, in his esti 
mation, necessary to appease popular discontent. 
Those measures were religious equality and an 
equitable land law, coupled with a modification 
of the tone and language commonly adopted in 
England with reference to Ireland. Little stirring 
was necessary to produce a flame. The accumu 
lated animosity of the past was born in the blood 
of Irishmen, and he confessed that his surprise 
was, not that they controlled it so little, but that 


they controlled it so much. Disowning on the 
part of the Roman Catholic Church any desire 
for State endowment, he claimed nevertheless 
restitution of the property taken from it, to be 
made, not to itself, but to God s representatives, 
the poor ; and he demanded religious equality. 

Proceeding to the land question, he did not 
shrink from affirming the natural and divine law 
giving each people a right to live of the fruits of 
the soil in their own land. The rights of private 
property were modified by public utility, and 
when used to the injury of a man s neighbour 
they would be resisted by law, and his freedom 
would be limited. An exposition of the wrongs 
of the Irish people was followed by a warning 
that the threatened danger would never pass 
away until justice was done. Legal right was 
not always justice ; the highest legal right was 
sometimes the greatest wrong. The Irish people 
appealed to Parliament for redress of their griev 
ances, pleading that the property in the soil 
created by its tillers and tenants, though belong 
ing legally to the landlord, belonged by that 
moral right higher than law to those who had 
created it. In conclusion, he claimed for himself 
the right to speak on the subject, as one brought 
daily into touch with an impoverished race, driven 


from home by what is called, by a heartless 
eupheuism, the Land Question, and which means 
in truth hunger, thirst, nakedness, notice to quit, 
labour spent in vain, the toil of years seized upon, 
the breaking up of homes ; the miseries, sicknesses, 
deaths of parents, children, wives; the despair and 
wildness of the poor when legal force, like a sharp 
harrow, goes over the most sensitive and vital rights 
of mankind. Fenianism could not have survived 
for a year if it were not supported by the tradi 
tional discontent of almost a whole people. 

Thus the Archbishop of Westminster concluded 
his impassioned protest the protest of a man, as 
he was careful to state, who next after that which 
was not of this world, desired earnestly to see 
maintained the unity, solidity, and prosperity of 
the Empire. From the views expressed in it he 
never receded ; time and experience led him to 
add to them other articles of faith which he 
would doubtless at this date have repudiated. 

The process was slow and gradual. In 1869, 
a request from the Secretary of the Amnesty 
Committee that he would permit the petition for 
the pardon of the Fenian prisoners to lie for 
signature at the London churches implies that, 
notwithstanding his condemnation of their political 
methods, he was not regarded by Irish agitators 


otherwise than as a friend. In refusing what was 
asked on the ground that it was an invariable 
custom to exclude non-ecclesiastical or non-re 
ligious matters from the churches, he expressed 
his sympathy with the object of the petition, add 
ing his conviction that the hope of success would 
be greatly weakened by apparent identification 
with his churches, and would be correspondingly 
strengthened should the appeal, disengaged from 
all special associations of nation and religion, be 
addressed to the kindly and merciful feelings of 
the country at large. 

His confidence in the justice of the people was 
always great greater perhaps than is warranted 
by the facts of history. In a letter to the Primate 
of Ireland on the subject of education, written 
five years after that addressed to Lord Grey, he 
took occasion to express his sanguine anticipa 
tions of amelioration in the relations between the 
two countries, looking onward to a time when 
national prejudice and animosities should be 
healed, and to a Parliament of wider views and 
in greater sympathy with the constituencies of 
the three kingdoms and of peoples distinct in 
blood, in religion, in character, and in local 
interests. Turning to the minority responsible 
in his eyes for the fostering of race hatreds, he 


denounced them strongly. ( I have watched/ he 
said, with a mixture of sorrow and indignation 
the writings and speeches of a handful of boister 
ous and blustering doctrinaires, who are trying to 
turn men away from doing what is just towards 
Ireland by grandiloquent phrases about the im 
perial race and an imperial policy. An imperial 
policy, in the mouths of such men, means a 
legislation which ignores the special character 
and legitimate demands of races and localities, 
and subjects them to coercion of laws at variance 
with their most sacred instincts. Of such a 
policy, however, the Archbishop declared that he 
had little fear. The day for it was, in his opinion, 

If the tone of this document might seem to 
foreshadow the future development of his convic 
tions on Irish affairs, the account of a conversa 
tion with Leo XIII. belonging to the same year 
proves that he was as yet far from being in 
sympathy with national aspirations. The preser 
vation of the imperial unity was, he told the Pope, 
vital to the three kingdoms, and to Ireland above all ; 
though adding that, under this condition, there was 
no domestic administration that the latter ought 
not to have. The Pope, he said, appeared relieved, 
as if he had expected Home Rule from him. 


More explicit still was his declarations, quoted 
in the same note, to the effect that what was 
needful was amministrazione domestica, ma 
Parlamento no : sarebbe preludio di conflitto e 
di separazione. 

In 1880 he still continued to maintain the same 
attitude of opposition to the Nationalist policy ; 
going so far as to give his approval to the measures 
taken in order to crush the popular agitation. My 
censure of Gladstone s government, he wrote at 
this time, is not for their Coercion Bill, but for 
not coercing horseplay before it grew into boy 
cotting, and boycotting before it grew into outrage, 
beginning a year and a half ago. But in their 
Land Bill I go beyond all that they have done. 
... It is thirteen years of added injustice, not 
coercion, that has demoralised the people of Ire 

The passage reads curiously, in the light of the 
views he was in no long time to embrace ; and so 
late as the year 1885, he is found condemning, in 
a letter to the Pope, the demand for an Irish 
Parliament. But this was his final utterance of 
the kind. When Mr. Gladstone introduced his 
Home Rule Bill in 1886, the only objection the 
Cardinal urged was directed against the transfer 
ence of Irish members from Westminster to 


Dublin an arrangement perilous to Catholic 
interests in the Imperial Parliament. He could 
not, he told those members themselves, spare one 
of them from Westminster. 

Amongst the results of his change of opinion 
was the renewal, on the score of a common interest 
and a common aim, of his old friendship with Mr. 
Gladstone so far, that is, as such ties, once broken, 
are capable of reconstruction. Already, in 1885, 
there had been signs that the bitterness aroused 
by the controversy then eleven years old was 
yielding to the influence of time, and that older 
memories were regaining their supremacy. We 
have been twice parted, the Cardinal wrote in 
answer to some letter from the statesman, but as 
the path declines, as you say, it narrows, and I 
am glad that we are again nearing each other as 
we near our end. l Two years later he still more 
definitely cancelled past dissensions. Writing in 
1887, he pointed backwards to the cause cham 
pioned by both in their days of intimacy, rejoicing 
that they were once more reunited. 

In the beginning of our career, he wrote, * we 
were of one mind and one heart in defending the 
interests of the Anglican Church. And now, at 
the close of our career, we are again of one mind 
1 Morley s Life of Gladstone. 




and one purpose, for, second to you only, I am 
the greatest Home Ruler in England. 

The religious conversion of Manning had severed 
the two, the conversion of both to a new political 
faith had brought the early comrades again 
together. I forsook all things for faith, the 
Cardinal noted in a private paper of that year. 
* He has forsaken his whole political past for 
Ireland. He is as isolated now as I was then. 
And this makes one turn to him. We are at last 
and at least agreed in this. 

Definitely convinced, Cardinal Manning had 
been characteristically ready to proclaim his 
principles ; and, heedless of the indignation 
roused thereby, he declared himself publicly a 
supporter of the Nationalist cause. In a long 
letter printed in the Times> and addressed to 
a correspondent who had drawn his attention 
to the fears entertained by alarmists that a 
Nationalist victory would be followed in Ireland 
by religious persecution, he made his new position 
clear. Of religious intolerance, should the country 
be handed over to Parnellite rule, he had no fear. 
Parnell, he pointed out, was a Protestant, and in 
no way a man likely to persecute Protestantism. 
Further, his power lay in the trust and sympathy 
of Catholics, who, in Ireland, had always respected 


liberty of conscience. The children of martyrs 
were not persecutors. Turning to the wider 
question of a change in the system of government, 
he did not shrink from avowing his convictions. 
Ireland had for centuries been held by a garrison. 
The time was come for her to be handed over to 
herself. Her people had attained their majority. 
Mr. Parnell has done what no other man at 
tempted to do. He has filled the place he found 
vacant. He has known the needs and interpreted 
the desire of the Irish people. Therefore he leads. 
But the transfer of self-government is not to Mr. 
Parnell nor to Parnellites, but to Ireland and to 
the Irish people. Passing on to the wrongdoing 
committed during the conflict to its unwisdom 
and crime if, he said, he did not gratify those 
who spoke of and saw nothing else, by denouncing 
these deplorable blemishes ignominious brands 
upon a cause essentially just and sacred it was 
not that he denied or condoned them. But they 
were made use of for a purpose and obscured the 
truth. For the rest, Mr. Parnell and his followers 
were the forlorn hope which had carried the strong 
hold. Forlorn hopes did their work, and were for 
ever remembered with gratitude and honour ; but 
they returned to the army out of which they came, 
and the army held the field. 


Such a declaration left no room for misinterpre 
tation or doubt, and in the excited state of public 
feeling it could not fail to produce fierce indigna 
tion on the part of those English and Irish hostile 
to the Nationalist creed. Of the violence of con 
servative sentiment a printed letter addressed to 
the Cardinal by the O Donoghue is an example. 
Expressing veneration for his office and regard 
for his person, the writer declared that his own 
sensations, on the present occasion, were what he 
might have experienced had he seen a sacred 
vessel from the altar clutched by impious hands 
and applied to profane uses. 

Partisan criticism was not likely to turn the 
Cardinal from his course : and the counter 
balancing welcome accorded him in the National 
ist ranks was warm. Amidst the hopes and 
fears and excitement of the days when success 
seemed near at hand, their new ally was eagerly 
sought by the men engaged in fighting the battle, 
secure of his sympathy, counsel, and encourage 
ment. In zeal for the cause they had at heart he 
was behind none of them, and the fashion in which 
he met them on their own ground is curiously 
illustrated by a story related by a member of 
Parliament who, in spite of his youth, had had no 
small experience of Irish gaols. The Cardinal had 


told the Pope, so he informed Mr. William Red 
mond lightly, that it was fortunate he had been 
made Archbishop of Westminster, rather than of 
Dublin or Cashel, since in the latter case he 
himself would certainly have been in prison. 

As to the exact nature and completeness of his 
conversion opinions differ. It is not impossibly 
true in the absence of definite explanation on 
his part there is a difficulty in pronouncing with 
certainty that his Irish politics were not in every 
respect in agreement with those of the Nationalist 
party. He had never disguised his conviction 
that, as he once wrote to M. Decurtins, political 
and diplomatic questions gave place to questions of 
the labour of women and children, hours of work, 
and kindred subjects ; and in Ireland, as elsewhere, 
the social aspect of the desired changes probably 
appealed to him in a greater degree than those 
that were purely political. An Englishman, too, 
it was only by sympathy and imagination that he 
was capable of sharing the national enthusiasm of 
the Irish, then at fever heat. But, however that 
may have been, his adhesion to the broad principle 
of nationality, the encouragement and support 
always at the service of those who maintained it, 
was sufficient to win for him the gratitude and 
love of the Irish on either side of the channel, and 


it is vain for his would-be apologists to endeavour 
to explain away or to minimise his open confession 
of faith. 

The day of restitution has nearly come/ he 
wrote to Mr. William O Brien. * I hope to see the 
day-break, and I hope you will see the noon-tide ; 
when the people of Ireland will be re-admitted, so 
far as is possible, to the possession of their own 
soil, and shall be admitted, so far as possible, to 
the making and administration of their own local 
laws, while they shall still share in the legislation 
which governs and consolidates the Empire. 

The Cardinal was not destined to see the 
realisation of his hopes ; and meantime a fresh 
complication had been introduced, by the arrival 
upon the scene of a papal delegate, charged with 
the duty of inquiring upon the spot into certain 
features of the situation in Ireland. The Liberal 
defeat and the consequent indefinite postponement 
of Nationalist hopes had been followed by renewed 
agitation, the Plan of Campaign and the system 
of boycotting being the weapons chiefly employed. 
Bishops and priests were at one with their people ; 
and all were united in resistance to a system felt 
to be intolerable, when it became known that 
Monsignor Persico was on his way to perform his 
mission. To Cardinal Manning the principle of 


interference from Rome, save through the Bishops, 
was distasteful in the extreme. His views were 
known ; and when a rumour gained currency that 
Monsignor Persico s mission had been revoked, 
the Times ascribed the fact to his instances, 
supported by those of Arcjhbishop Walsh ; adding 
that the active promoters of separatist intrigues 
are hardly the persons who should have a 
determining voice in the councils of the Church. 
The attack was made at a vulnerable point, and it 
was not left unanswered. The letter in which the 
Cardinal replied to the charge is an example 
both of his chivalry in associating himself with a 
colleague in disrepute and his method of doing so. 
There were times, he wrote, when he held resent 
ment to be a duty. The statement made by the 
Times was false. As to the charges brought, he 
added, * I gladly unite myself with the Archbishop 
of Dublin. He is but slightly known in England, 
except in the descriptions of those who are 
fanning the flames of animosity between England 
and Ireland. I am known in England both to 
Ministers of the Crown and to the leaders of the 
Opposition. I leave to them, who well know my 
mind, to answer for me ; and I, who know the 
mind of the Archbishop of Dublin, answer for 
him. We are neither intriguers nor separatists. 


To the delegate himself he was equally explicit, 
strongly deprecating any intervention in Irish 
affairs except through the ordinary channels. 
Were a papal Rescript to be issued over the 
heads of the episcopate, he declared that, in the 
excited condition of the country, he was unable 
to answer for the consequences. 

His advice was disregarded, and the Rescript 
in condemnation of the Plan of Campaign and the 
system of boycotting was promulgated direct 
from Rome, straining to the uttermost the loyalty 
and trust of the men who had been driven to 
employ those weapons of the weak. In an 
autobiographical note, dated 1890, the Cardinal 
explained his action with regard to this episode, and 
made manifest the light in which he regarded the 
papal intervention. Before quoting it, it is well 
that the nature of the practices condemned should 
be made clear, as well as the data on which the 
Rescript had been founded. 

What boycotting was is well known. The Plan 
of Campaign has been probably widely misunder 
stood in England. It was, briefly, the formation 
of associations consisting of the tenants of a given 
locality, each of whom was to proffer to the 
landlord what was estimated by the whole body 
to be a fair rent for his holding. If refused, these 


sums were to be paid into a general fund, to be 
applied to the maintenance of evicted tenants. By 
judges who knew and trusted the leaders who had 
devised and supervised this method of reduc 
ing extortionate rents, there was little exception 
to be taken to the system ; but it was easy to 
represent it in England and in foreign countries as 
a conspiracy to defraud the landowners of what 
was justly due to them. With regard to the 
means by which the Rescript condemning these 
practices was obtained no less misconception 
prevailed, the general belief being embodied in an 
address presented to Monsignor Persico on the 
conclusion of his mission and signed by a large 
number of Irish Catholic landlords, * in the fervent 
hope that his Excellency s mission might largely 
conduce to the glory of God, the increase of 
charity, and the restoration of peace and goodwill 
among men in other words, that the Nationalist 
party would be discredited and rents would 
continue to be paid as before. 

The assumption that the Rescript was based 
upon the reports and advice of the man sent to 
examine into the matter upon the spot was a 
legitimate one. It was not until after some 
sixteen years had passed that the publication 1 

1 United Irishman , May 14, 1904. 


of a portion of the correspondence between 
Cardinal Manning and the papal delegate threw 
an altogether different light upon his share in the 

It is known to your Eminence, wrote Persico 
to the Cardinal after the issue of the Rescript, 
1 that I did not expect at all the said decree, that 
I was never so much surprised in my life as when 
I received the bare circular from Propaganda. . . . 
And, what is more unaccountable to me, only the 
day before I had received a letter from the 
Secretary for the Extraordinary Ecclesiastical 
Affairs, telling me that nothing had been done 
about Irish affairs, and that my report and other 
letters were still nella casetta del Emo. Rampolla ! 
And yet the whole world thinks and says that the 
Holy Office has acted on my report, and that the 
decree is based upon the same. Not only all the 
Roman correspondents, but all the newspapers, 
avec le Tablet en t$te, proclaim and report the same 
thing. I wish that my report and all my letters 
had been studied and seriously considered, and 
that action had been taken from the same. Above 
all, I had proposed and insisted upon it, that 
whatever was necessary to be done, ought to be 
done with and through the Bishops. 

With this emphatic and earnest disclaimer of 


responsibility on the part of the man who had 
spent some six months in Ireland, mastering, so 
far as was possible for a foreigner to master, the 
situation in that country, it is not difficult to 
understand the position taken up by the Cardinal 
in his autobiographical note. Admitting that in 
itself the decree was absolutely true, just, and 
useful in the abstract, he pointed out that the 
condition of Ireland was abnormal, and that the 
decree contemplated facts that were non-existent, 
and would have been more truly known and more 
safely judged on the spot. The Plan of Campaign 
was not a dogmatic fact, and it was one thing to 
declare all legal agreements binding, and another 
to say that all agreements in Ireland were legal. 
What was legally just was there morally unjust ; 
and the sanction of the former should have been 
followed by a condemnation of the latter. 

In Ireland the decree took little effect. By one 
Bishop alone was it published to the people, and 
the Archbishop of Cashel sent a subscription to 
the Plan of Campaign. Further, Mr. Parnell 
having declared that it was for his Catholic col 
leagues to decide for themselves what steps to 
take as to a document from a distant country/ 
some forty of them held a meeting, pronounced 
the conclusions contained in it to have been drawn 


from erroneous premisses, and, asserting their 
complete obedience to the Holy See in matters 
spiritual, denied its right to intervene in political 
questions. A letter from the Pope to the Arch 
bishop of Dublin, belonging to the end of the year, 
may be regarded as closing the incident; when, 
referring to the action so sadly misunderstood/ 
he stated that he had been prompted, not by the 
consideration of what was conformable to truth 
and justice alone, but also by the desire of advanc 
ing Irish interests, and of not allowing the cause 
in which Ireland was struggling to be weakened 
by any reproach that could justly be brought 
against it. 

That the episode had in no way interfered with 
the cordiality of the relations between the English 
Cardinal and the Irish party was manifest. On 
the celebration of his silver jubilee in 1890, some 
fifty of its members, Mr. Parnell at their head, 
presented him with an address of congratulation. 
In his reply the Cardinal, after referring to the 
London Irish, proceeded to speak of Ireland 

My present feeling, he said, is one of the 
most profound hope. Ireland has entered into 
the most intimate and cordial union with the 
English people. If I know anything, I know the 


working people of England ; and I know at this 
moment that the hearts of the working people 
of England have turned to Ireland in true and 
perfect sympathy. 

The Cardinal was to be proved to be mis 
taken. The time was close at hand when the 
hopes then so high were to be shattered, and the 
abandonment of their leader was to be followed 
by a period of disruption amongst the Irish party 
resulting in the indefinite and deserved postpone 
ment of the realisation of national aspirations. But 
his identification with the national cause endeared 
him for ever to the Irish people. In a country he 
had never visited his name was familiar and hon 
oured, and after his death the organ of the Dublin 
Jesuits bore generous testimony to the services 
rendered to their nation and to humanity by the 
man never reputed to be a friend of their order. 
He had, it was pointed out, read aright the signs 
of the times, his natural democracy quickened and 
strengthened by the conviction that the future of 
the Church would be determined by the masses. 
Though his advocacy of Irish claims and relations 
with Irish members were said to have cost him 
not a few friendships, and his advocacy of London 
labour had drawn upon him the censure and 
sarcasm of the friends of employers, he held on 


his way unmoved by opposition, and had his 
reward in the spread among the rulers of the 
Church of the spirit and views of which he was the 
exponent. 1 

1 Lyceum. 


Increasing Age Multiplicity of Interests The Cardinal s 
Visitors Henry George. 

THE years were creeping on. To some men it 
happens that, by no fault of their own, but by the 
simple action of time and circumstance, they fall 
out of the march, and withdrawing to some quiet 
place of rest for mind and body, passively await 
the end. Who should blame them ? With Car 
dinal Manning this was never the case. As he 
had lived, so he was determined to die, at his post. 
He did not recognise the duty of averting death, 
so long as it is possible to do so, by timely pre 
cautions, and when urged on one occasion to spend 
a winter in the south he was resolute in his refusal 
to listen to his counsellors. 

When my Father opens His door/ he answered, 
* and wants Henry Edward Manning within, shall 
not the child be waiting on the doorstep ? 

For Henry Edward Manning the waiting place 
was Westminster ; and at Westminster he remained, 
active in body and mind, labouring unweariedly till 
the call came to summon him hence. 



As age grew upon him, it brought, rather than 
any diminution of cares, a greater variety of duties 
and interests. Side by side with his multifarious 
public avocations his temperance work, his un 
ceasing efforts on behalf of religious education, 
his ecclesiastical responsibilities, his participation 
in every movement calculated to better the condi 
tion of the poor ran his comparatively private life 
the life of a man whose doors were never shut 
against those who individually sought his help 
and counsel. Men of all kinds resorted to him in 
increasing numbers, for comfort in their trials, 
encouragement in their defeats, or to gain a re 
newal of strength to enable them to fight their 
battles afresh. His patience was almost inexhaust 
ible. 1 All, of whatever faith or unfaith, were wel 
come, and crowded around him, certain that, asking 
bread, they would not receive a stone. A universal 
physician, it was perhaps most of all such as were 
wounded in the fight with privilege and power 
and monopoly that appealed to him for aid. 
Personally no rebel, asking for himself nothing, he 

1 Mr. Purcell records one outburst of impatience on the Cardinal s 
part ; when, on some occasion, his attention had been claimed by 
uncongenial guests. In the face of the unanimous testimony borne 
by other witnesses to the welcome found by all sorts and conditions 
of men at Archbishop s House, his biographer s account of a solitary 
mood, due it may be to weariness or strain, may fairly be dis 


was the friend of rebels rebels not so much 
against one form of oppression or another, as 
against the tyranny of circumstances hemming in 
men s lives on every side, crippling and maiming 
them, and condemning, by what appeared to some 
an unalterable decree, the mass of human kind to 
hardship, want, and suffering. 

It was not, however, the poor and the oppressed 
alone who felt his attraction. Something in his 
personality struck and kindled the imagination of 
men of opposite views, compelling them, like Mr. 
Page Roberts, to confess that there was a fascina 
tion in asceticism, and to declare that the prelates 
of humanism looked like heathen in the presence 
of such white austerity. Description after descrip 
tion, at a time when he had taken his place as one 
of the most notable features of contemporary 
London, testify to the effect he produced upon 
young and old, of every shade of opinion, religious 
and political. Disraeli paints portraits too familiar 
for reproduction ; a younger associate of these 
later years places upon record the impression pro 
duced by the dignity of his bearing ; describing 
how, though never putting himself forward or assert 
ing his rank, he was always the most conspicuous 
figure wherever he might be present ; and yet 
another witness testifies to his singular accessibility 


to all who needed what he could give. Not the 
humblest docker, not the youngest child, not the 
hardest unbeliever, found in him any greatness, as 
earth s personages are great. ... To be of service 
to you seemed the special object of his life. . . . 
His heart seemed to bound and sing with the 
enjoyment of the thought that he could be 
anything of a helper to the helpless amongst 
men. 1 

A gift noticed by one observer was his power 
of searching the secrets of character with a 
glance. To a man whose duty it is to select 
instruments, few faculties could be more valuable. 
But that he supplemented natural intuition by 
unhurried care and thought, is curiously illustrated 
by the account of a first interview given by a 
woman who had come, a stranger, to his house, 
to seek his opinion as to a certain course of 
action. Not until he had conversed with her 
for approximately an hour upon topics uncon 
nected with the object of her visit, and had thus 
gauged her powers and capacities, would he 
consent to pronounce his verdict, telling her that 
he believed she was capable of carrying out her 
purpose, that it would be well to do so, and 
bestowing his blessing upon her undertaking. 

1 Rev. B. Waugh. Contemporary Review, Feb. 1899. 


It was no isolated instance of the fashion in 
which he was ready to give deliberate attention in 
response to the demands of those who, in the 
common phrase, had no claim upon him. The 
servant of servants, the Cardinal democrat was 
always prepared to sacrifice his leisure to those 
in need of it. To all he was a friend, meeting 
them, now gravely, now lightly, on their own 
ground ; no less at home with the man who saw in 
him merely a fellow-worker in a common cause, 
than with the Catholic who bent the knee to him 
as a Prince of the Church. 

Have you seen Mr. Mann ? he asked some 
one, glancing at his own frail hand with a laugh, 
as he recalled the strong grip of the labour leader. 
It hurts, he added, * but I like it. 

In his great empty house the house of a man 
who once said, I feel at times ashamed to own 
anything he lived the life of an ascetic. He 
did not, wrote Archdeacon Farrar after his 
death, regard luxury and ostentation as necessary 
to the maintenance of his position, but lived in a 
bare house, on meals which would make ninety- 
nine servants out of a hundred give notice after a 
day s trial. He has left behind him a great name 
and a great example, and it would be well for the 

Church of England if she had one or two Bishops 



who would learn from him how a great ecclesiastic 
may win the enthusiastic confidence of the working 
classes, and stamp his influence on the humani^ 
tarian progress of the age/ 1 

Such were the words of a man regarding the 
Cardinal from a standpoint far removed from his 
own. Notwithstanding his strong religious tenets, 
he had the faculty of throwing down barriers and 
establishing bonds of union on all sides. Oh, 
Manning he is not an ecclesiastic he belongs 
to us all/ was the reply of a statesman who, 
objecting to the presence of clerical members on 
a charitable committee, was informed that the 
Cardinal had already been placed on it. A demo 
crat who had never made a secret of his convictions, 
he was on cordial terms with conservative poli 
ticians from whom he differed in almost every 
respect. In the dark and disturbing days on 
which we have fallen/ wrote Lord Beaconsfield, 
shortly before his death, in acknowledging a new 
year s letter, so fierce with faction even amongst 
the most responsible, the voice of patriotism 
from one so eminent as yourself will animate 
the faltering, and add courage even to the 
brave ending with the expression of his deep 

1 Review of the Churches, March, 1892. 


Where he could approve, he approved ; he did 
not hesitate to make use of men whose general 
policy he condemned when they could be turned 
to the service of God and the poor. Whether it 
is well to do so remains to some of us a question. 
To employ only instruments which have been 
proved trustworthy may in the end repay delay. 
But to refuse the help of none where a purpose 
was to be served was the Cardinal s habit, open 
and avowed ; and if his course was thereby occa 
sionally rendered politically devious, he brought 
no pressure to bear to induce others to follow in 
his steps. 

( It would seem to me/ he wrote in answer to 
the question of an elector in 1885, that voters 
must vote, after all, according to their own con 
victions. It is not unreasonable or in any way 
wrong to try to convince a voter of what we 
believe to be right or better. But beyond this we 
have no right or duty. I always hold myself to 
be officially bound to neutrality, and leave my 
clergy and flock perfectly free. 

It would be well if all teachers of religion would 
follow the Cardinal s example. 

Whilst the cordiality of his terms with men of 
all schools has been described, it was perhaps 
inevitable that those who considered themselves 


to possess a more exclusive right to his thought 
and care should have been disposed to indulge in 
some jealousy at the breadth of his sympathies, 
and to look with suspicion upon the links binding 
him to men of every opinion, social, political, and 
religious. Some feeling of this kind may be 
responsible for his biographer s tone in charac 
terising the guests who frequented Archbishop s 
House during these later years. It would be 
easy to attach too much importance to the an 
imadversions of a critic plainly hostile, yet it is 
possible that they reflect to some degree the 
irritation felt by a portion of his flock. 

1 Social reformers, political agitators, defenders 
of the rights of labour, denouncers of the rights 
of property, advocates of the disestablishment of 
churches and of the emancipation of women ; l 
upholders of a free breakfast-table, and of free 
education under the control and management of 
the parish beadle ; enthusiastic visionaries who 
saw the coming of a millennium in which religion, 
turned out of the churches, should be marshalled 
and regulated according to the gospel of General 
Booth this does not exhaust the catalogue to 
be found in the pages of a writer incapable of 

1 The Women s Rights movement was, in fact, one with which 
the Cardinal was not in sympathy. 


understanding the objects, aims, or interests of 
the hero of charity to whom nothing human 
was common or unclean. To Archbishop s House, 
says Mr. Purcell, came all who had a grievance to 
urge, a cause to advocate, a mission or message to 
deliver, a new code of morals or gospel to preach. 
Unjust as it would be to accept his biographer s 
angry contempt as in any true sense representa 
tive of the sentiments of English Catholics, the 
attitude of disapproval or coldness adopted by a 
section of those belonging to his faith and creed 
cannot have failed to be painful to a man as 
sensitive, as full of craving for sympathy, as the 
Cardinal Archbishop. Again, though the sweep 
ing statement that the leading Catholic laity took 
no interest in the social and political questions 
which he had taken to heart, and consequently 
stood aloof/ might not be accepted upon Mr. 
Purcell s authority alone, it is impossible to deny 
that the Cardinal s own words, on more than one 
occasion, tend to confirm and endorse it, showing 
that he was often compelled to carry on his 
labours in some sort single-handed. In his 
temperance work it has been seen that this was 
the case, and even in matters more directly con 
nected with religion the same absence of practical 
help appears to have existed. 


Catholics to-day, he is quoted as saying, 1 * take 
no interest in Catholic affairs of a public character. 
Some pious and prominent men and women, never 
too many, during the season are most zealous and 
active ; superintend or organise schools in the 
East End ; help in the opening of new missions 
or in establishing refuges or homes for the sick or 
poor. But in a month or two, when the season is 
over, they go away, and leave me to work alone. 

The words may have been spoken in a mood 
of despondency ; the despondency nevertheless 
points to a sense of loneliness. Such loneliness 
was perhaps inevitable. The heights are solitary; 
and the very fact that his position and the work he 
carried on were unique had necessarily the effect 
of setting him in a measure apart. Once more 
to quote the same writer, in the isolation of his 
last years he lived a life of his own imaginings, 
indulged in visionary theories, dreamed dreams, 
fancying he saw a new order of things mistaking 
things ephemeral for things eternal growing up 
under his hands. In other words, he dreamed of 
social regeneration for the poverty-stricken and the 
suffering ; of deliverance from misery and hardship 
for the toilers and labourers of the world; of 

1 Again, this rests upon Mr. Purcell s authority, and must be 
taken with reserve. 


sympathy and love and co-operation independent 
of distinctions of class and creed ; and above all, 
of the reconciliation of the religion of Christ 
pre-eminently represented in his eyes by the 
Catholic Church and the democracy. 

To return to the visitors to Archbishop s House, 
amongst those who found a welcome there at this 
period were Michael Davitt and Henry George. 
Discussing with the American reformer the 
question of land nationalisation, the Cardinal was 
favourably impressed by his earnestness, quiet, 
and calm ; giving in a letter to the Brooklyn 
Review an account of the conversation, and of 
the fashion in which he himself had cleared the 
way for argument by ascertaining to what degree 
he was in accord with his visitor, and how far 
opposed to him, on fundamental axioms. 

* Before we go further, the Cardinal said, let me 
know whether we are in agreement upon one vital 
principle. I believe that the law of property is 
founded on the lawof nature,and that it is sanctioned 
in revelation, declared in the Christian law, taught 
by the Catholic Church, and incorporated in the 
civilisation of all nations. Therefore, unless we 
are in agreement upon this, which lies at the 
foundation of society, I am afraid we cannot 
approach each other. 


By Mr. George s answer the Cardinal under 
stood that he did not deny the principle in 
question, and that his contention was mainly 
directed against the intolerable evils resulting 
from an exaggeration of the legal provisions 
connected with it. 

He added/ said the Cardinal, that the present 
separation and opposition of the rich and poor 
were perilous to society, and that he saw no 
remedy for them but in the example and teach 
ings of Christ. He spoke fully and reverently 
on this subject. 

In the two men, unlike in much, there existed 
one essential point of union love of God and 
man. They had, says an eye-witness of the 
interview, travelled to the same goal from opposite 

1 loved the people/ said Henry George, and 
that love brought me to Christ as their best friend 
and teacher. 

And I/ said the Cardinal, loved Christ, and 
so learned to love the people for whom He died. 

And thus they parted. 

It is affirmed that in Mr. George s subsequent 
work, Poverty and Progress/ the Cardinal found 
matter for disapproval or condemnation. At the 
time of the visit he had only read the Social 


Problems, in which he had seen nothing worthy of 
censure. However this may be ; and though it is 
not unlikely that the opinions of the two diverged 
on many points, divergence need not imply lack 
of sympathy, and Henry George recognised that 
sympathy and was grateful for it. If, to others, 
offence was given, it was only what was to be 
expected. Men to whom democratic principles, 
a belief in the sovereignty of the people, the 
abolition of class monopolies, were doctrines ab 
horrent and subversive, could scarcely fail to regard 
the Cardinal s dreams as mischievous and peril 
ous ; to fear and shun the means he used to 
materialise them ; and to view his friendly inter 
course with popular leaders with uneasiness and 


The Social Purity Crusade Trafalgar Square Riot The 
Cardinal s Opinion of the Government. 

DURING the year 1885 the difference of judgment 
sometimes severing the Cardinal from those by 
whom he was surrounded, as well as from a large 
portion of the British public, was accentuated by 
a painful episode described by his biographer 
in exaggerated and hysterical language. This was 
what was termed the Social Purity Crusade. 

In considering the fearlessness he displayed, not 
on this occasion alone but on others, in braving 
disapproval and misinterpretation, it should be 
borne in mind that it was not the result of indiffer 
ence. If he was self-reliant to a fault, and rash in 
resisting censure and condemnation, he was never 
callous with regard to adverse criticism, and was 
very humanly sensitive and resentful of attack, 
even in cases where he could well have afforded to 
treat his assailants with contempt. In his calmer 
moments, indeed, he could disregard them. Thus, 
on one occasion, lectured by the Times from a 



height of superiority, he characterised the assertion 
that he mistook cause and effect with a touch of 
humour. It was the sort of criticism, he observed, 
that an undergraduate would make. I am told/ 
he added, that in the present day the Times is a 
good deal written by undergraduates. In more 
serious moods, he could also appraise the insinua 
tions of those who perhaps had a grudge to satisfy, 
or an object to serve, at a just valuation. One 
anonymous dissentient, he would reflect, was noisy ; 
others who listened and believed were silent. He 
might perhaps know one day what mark he had 
left. His desire was to say, with St. Paul, * You 
are my epistle, written in my hand, and known and 
read of all men poor children, poor drunkards, 
and perhaps a few other souls. 

But whilst these were the conclusions of his 
cooler judgment, there were times when the irre 
sponsible abuse of newspapers carefully preserved 
wounded him to a curious degree ; and though 
he might allow it to pass unnoticed so far as any 
public reply was concerned, he was accustomed to 
set down in writing the refutation of the charges 
brought against him ; to make his defence, so to 
speak, at his private bar ; and to vindicate himself, 
not to the world but to conscience, the master to 
whom alone he stood or fell. The soreness and 


indignation visible in these notes give proof of a 
susceptibility to blame or misconception which 
must often, in the course of his chequered career, 
have been a cause of acute suffering. This false 
hood is truly brutal may God forgive the writer, 
he wrote on one occasion. And again, I hope 
that when I am gone these lies may not " make 
history " about me. 

Whilst this vulnerability to attack must be 
counted as a failing, it also serves to throw into 
relief his boldness in inviting it ; and never was 
this boldness more marked than in the autumn of 
1885, in connection with a great social abuse, and 
the methods to be pursued in the endeavour to 
combat an evil recognised and deplored by all 

The cause of the helpless victims of the present 
conditions of society and modern civilisation was 
especially calculated to appeal to a man who, while 
uncompromisingly severe in his denunciation of 
vice, and especially of the vices of the rich, was 
ever pitiful towards sinners. 

More than forty years earlier, as Archdeacon of 
Chichester, he had preached on the subject of 
fallen women. None are to be pitied more/ he 
said. None are more sinned against. Shame, 
fear, and horror bar their return. The drop has 


fallen ; behind them is a gulf they cannot pass. 
Contrasting their present and their past, he had 
drawn a picture of the life of innocence and hope 
they had left behind, and had told of the end that 
awaited them, far from mother, brother, husband, 
child. Then comes death, and after death the 
judgment, and the great white throne on which 
He sitteth from whose face both heaven and earth 
shall flee away. 

Forty-one years had passed since those words 
had been spoken, and the evil was as great 
greater than ever. The luxury of the west of 
London, he once told a wealthy congregation 
when pleading for funds to carry on rescue work, 
has produced a rankness and audacity of vice, 
thinly veiled, or open and bare-faced, such as was 
found hardly in Rome of old, or in any city that 
I know in the civilised world. Of poor children 
belonging to east end homes not worthy of the 
name, what could, he asked, be expected ? Dom 
estic life had been destroyed ; the streets were full 
of temptation ; opportunities for drink, the most 
powerful and successful of all enemies of souls 
being not one sin, but all sin everywhere. 

Into the subject of the means employed to 
bring the evil in question to light, this is not the 
place to enter, but in a study of the Cardinal s 


social work, the Cardinal s attitude towards it 
cannot be overlooked. The words in which he 
alluded to the matter when, during the last year 
of his life, he was recording the experience he had 
gained, are significant of much besides the actual 
case in point. In the uprising against the horrible 
depravity which destroys young girls multitudes 
of ours , he then wrote, I was literally denounced 
by Catholics ; not one came forward. If it was ill 
done, why did nobody try to mend it ? 

The question is the key to his position. The 
means taken to amend what was infamous might 
have been ill-chosen ; and it may be that, in retro 
spect, a doubt as to the wisdom of the methods 
employed found admittance into his mind ; but at 
the time, confronted by an immense and terrible 
evil, he could not afford to inquire too strictly into 
the course pursued in the attempt to combat it, 
and, fully convinced of the honesty and rectitude 
of the man responsible for that attempt, he stood 
firmly by Mr. Stead, was his advocate through 
good report and ill, and adhered to the line he 
had adopted in spite of remonstrance, protest, and 
entreaty. Whether he was right or wrong in his 
judgment may certainly be questioned, but the 
courage and the indifference to public opinion he 
displayed is eminently characteristic. Reasons 


for a neutral attitude would not have been far to 
seek ; but if there was unwisdom in his unflinching 
partisanship, it was the generous unwisdom of a 
man whose habit it was, from first to last, when 
soever sinners were to be rescued or evil to be 
fought, to fling himself into the quarrel, and who 
never deserted a cause because it was reviled. 

In the present instance no one had power to 
move him one iota from his purpose ; and a private 
letter printed after his death, referring to an 
entreaty not to introduce the subject into an ex 
pected pastoral, shows the spirit with which he 
resented interference, however well-intentioned, in 
the discharge of what he regarded as a public duty. 

As to the pastoral, not a word, he wrote. I 
should forget all laws of proportion and fitness if 
I took notice of the gross impertinence of Abra 
ham s children. If, and when, I saw fit to issue a 
pastoral, twelve tribes of Pharisees and Scribes 
would not hinder me. What do they take me for, 
and what do they imagine themselves to be ? 

A protest from inmates of his house against the 
display upon his table of the newspaper then in ill 
repute, whilst proving the strength of the feeling 
aroused against the line he had taken, met with 
no greater success. The remonstrance, it is 
added, was never repeated. 


Two years later he found himself for once, and 
surely to his own surprise, on the side of the 
authorities, and in opposition to popular senti 
ment. This was on the occasion of the collision 
between police and people in Trafalgar Square. 
According to his habit, he judged the incident, 
like others, on its own merits, and in this instance 
sided with what is called the party of law and 
order. Strongly as he felt the necessity of vindi 
cating the right of public meeting, he was of 
opinion that it was not now imperilled ; that law 
and liberty were, in England, in no danger ; that 
occurrences such as that which had taken place in 
Trafalgar Square acted as a check upon the spread 
of sympathy with Ireland, and the restitution of 
justice to that country. The combination of 
socialists and of that outcast population which is 
the rebuke, sin, shame, and scandal of society, and 
would become its scourge, was a misrepresentation 
of law, liberty, and justice. The appeal to physical 
force was criminal and immoral, venial in men 
maddened by suffering, but inexcusable in others. 

Thus he wrote to an advocate of the course 
pursued, in uncompromising condemnation of it, 
though making the reservation in excuse of some 
of those concerned in the affray the poor and 
the struggling which comes like a refrain in his 


utterances. As a general principle, however, his 
faith and confidence in the rectitude of the people 
was almost unlimited, and if he considered it right, 
on this occasion, to express his disapproval of 
democratic methods, a private document belong 
ing to the year 1890, containing a general indict 
ment of the conduct and policy of the government 
in office at the time, indicates that his disapproba 
tion arose from no sympathy with the ministry. 
That ministry he characterised as one relying 
upon force, which had given Ireland a Crimes 
Act and not one remedy for its just complaints, 
had filled Trafalgar Square with soldiers, domi 
nated the crofters by means of a gunboat, and 
had had the Guards ready to intervene in the 
Docker s Strike. The present Government, 
he wrote, is morally weak and unpopular. They 
know it, and they rely on force under the 
plea of maintaining law, order, and authority. 
And they are irritating and goading Ireland into 
intemperate speech. A goaded people loses calm 
ness and self-control. It puts itself in the wrong 
under provocation, and is put down by force. . . . 
England is becoming seriously disturbed. The 
classes are alarmed and the masses irritated. . . . 
The millions of what I may call the "labour 
world" possess the suffrage. And to them the 


political power is steadily devolving. They are 
both reasonable and just. They are calm and 
conservative. The Thames Strike was ended by 
reason and free-will. The Miners Strike of 
300,000 men was ended by reason and free-will. 
If Government will meet the people face to face, 
neither soldiers nor police will be needed. If 
Government treats the people as lords and squires 
treat their keepers and their labourers, the man 
hood of Englishmen will rise against them. 


Later Writings Their Character Views on the Work of 
the Salvation Army Plea for the Worthless Irre 
sponsible Wealth. 

DURING the last ten years of his life, when 
age was limiting the possibilities of physical 
exertion, the Cardinal had frequently recourse 
to his pen as a means of advocating and 
furthering the causes he had at heart. In earlier 
times he had taken rank as a writer. But he 
had long since relinquished the ambition to 
distinguish himself in that direction, and Dr. 
Dollinger notices the deterioration of his art 
after his conversion. He would not have denied 

I believe I can say, he wrote, I have had no 
literary vanity since I became a priest ... I have 
since then written as the time and truth demanded, 
dry and unpopular matters enough. In old days, 
he notes, his books had been quoted for style. 
With style he had now no concern. His object 
was to urge his views with plainness and sim 



At first his writings had been mostly on purely 
religious topics; but as time went on he dealt 
with others, various and manifold ; with social 
grievances, necessary reforms ; the means of 
reaching and saving the great outcast population 
of modern civilisation ; and his signature became 
a frequent feature in periodical literature. To 
make use of this essentially modern channel for 
promulgating opinion has been termed a new 
departure for a Roman Catholic ecclesiastic ; l it 
was in full harmony with the Cardinal s methods. 
He was, as Monseigneur Baunard, Recteur des 
Faculty s Catholiques de Lille, pointed out in a 
letter written after his death, pre-eminently the 
man of his time and century, accepting it as it is, 
with its progress, its spirit, its resources, its 
institutions, liberty, the press, journalism, schools, 
association, publicity, cosmopolitanism all that 
perfect armoury which is used against us and 
that the sacred militia must know how to handle 
if the day is to be won for God and God s 

Not one weapon would he allow the enemy to 
monopolise, especially so powerful a one as the 
press. In his written appeals there was displayed 

1 Bishop Ketteler, of Mainz, had been beforehand with him in 
making full use of the power of the press. 


the same wide spirit of charity and sympathy, 
the same eagerness to take up the quarrel of 
the defenceless, that pervaded his utterances 
and his actions. And in this manner his 
arguments reached hundreds and thousands to 
whose ears they could have penetrated in no 
other way. 

To some it was inevitable that offence should 
be given, as by his words and actions so by his 
writings. The absence on his part of any jealousy 
of others engaged in labouring for objects akin to 
his own, but on different lines, occasionally laid 
him open to misapprehension amongst the strictly 
orthodox. Yet it might have been thought that 
his meaning was made sufficiently clear to safe 
guard his position from misconception. He had 
never courted popularity by suppressing or 
minimising what he believed to be the truth. On 
matters of doctrine he was rigid ; his theology 
was of an extreme type, and the term Liberal 
Catholic is, once at least, employed in his published 
writings in a condemnatory sense. But whilst on 
questions specifically affecting Catholic tenets he 
would accept no compromise, he was ready to 
meet those outside the Church on the broad basis 
of a common Christianity. It is not a man s creed 
so much as his fashion of holding it that imparts 


narrowness or breadth to his outlook on life ; and 
the charity and indulgence resulting from know 
ledge and experience were ever teaching him a 
wider tolerance and a deeper apprehension of the 
good underlying convictions he did not share, and 
leading him to assimilate those elements in them 
commending themselves to his sense of justice and 
truth. Nor had he any difficulty where many 
find so much in separating a man and his 
opinions. To the Catholic ecclesiastic, for instance, 
the greatness of Cromwell might not have been 
expected to appeal ; but as Englishman and social 
reformer, the Cardinal recognised it to the full, 
declaring that, apart from the Irish expedition, he 
had ever regarded the Puritan statesman as the 
greatest man produced by the English race : no 
other ruler, before or since, has united in equal 
degree such faith in the imperial destinies of 
England abroad, and such passionate concern for 
the welfare of the common people at home. As 
in history, so it was in life. They draw me as 
much to the writer/ he said in earlier days in 
reference to some letters of an evangelical type, 
as they warn me from the path in which he 
is outwardly treading. Would to God I could 
walk with him in the inward path where his 
feet tread surely. The same spirit remained 


with him to the end, and rendered intolerance, 
in the sense in which some men are intolerant, an 

When work was to be done there could be no 
doubt that he would have liked to do it. He was 
confident in himself and in his powers it is too 
marked a feature not to be insisted upon again 
and again as giving part of its character to his 
life and labours he was more than confident in 
his Church, and was convinced no man to a 
greater degree that his was the more excellent 
way. Nor did he scruple to say so. You are 
not following Christ so much as you think you 
are/ he once told a fellow-worker bluntly. * Follow 
Him enough, and you will find that out. But he 
was sufficiently wise to know that there was work 
he could not do, generous enough to wish all 
success to the men who were doing, or attempting 
to do it, and eager to lend them co-operation a 
co-operation which they appreciated and welcomed, 
I often heard my father say of you, Lord Shaftes- 
bury s son wrote, * that whenever there was good 
to be done and evil to be fought, he was sure of 
you. Lifted above petty jealousies and ignoble 
rivalries by the supreme desire that, whether by 
himself or others, God should be served, souls 
should be rescued, and succour brought to the 


needy, it was not possible that he should refuse to 
acknowledge the value of other men s toil. 

From his home in the centre of London he 
looked out upon the great sinful city, full of 
evil and of the misery consequent upon evil, 
considering it not only in the abstract, not only 
with the impersonal compassion of the philanthro 
pist or the regret of the legislator though these 
were also his but with the eyes of a man who 
was likewise a priest, and who watched and 
mourned the wrecking of individual lives. Morn 
ing after morning he would be seen to examine 
the police reports, his face clouding as Irish 
names the names of culprits for whom he was 
specially responsible met his eye; and perhaps 
he owed a portion of his power to this blending 
of interest in the problems affecting masses of 
men, and in the units of which those masses were 
composed. It is a saying of the Abbe Mullois 
that to speak well to the people it is necessary to 
love them very much. This collective affection 
Cardinal Manning had, and it made itself felt ; 
but he combined with it that love for each single 
individual which is not always the attribute of the 

1 You put both hands into the fire to rescue that 
poor soul, some one once said to him. 


Indeed I did, was the reply. 

It is men who are thus bent upon rescuing 
souls who learn to measure and estimate aright 
the magnitude of the task; and gauging the 
extent and the malignity of the disease, the 
Cardinal felt that it was not for him to place a 
hindrance in the way of any physician who 
desired to attempt a cure. Seen in this light, no 
agency for combating the ills he saw came to him 
amiss ; no method of dealing with them, however 
forlorn the hope it might offer, would he discourage. 
He could afford to treat no fellow-worker with 
contempt or set him coldly aside. 

Some men in his position would have preserved 
a negative attitude ; would have contented them 
selves with silence ; and, whilst abstaining from 
condemnation, would have refrained from com 
mitting themselves to a definite expression of 
opinion. Such was not Cardinal Manning s habit, 
and in 1882, when the criticism called forth by 
the Salvation Army was more severe than at the 
present time, he braved public opinion by a fair 
and dispassionate examination of its claims to 
approval, and though confessing that, with regard 
to the ultimate results to be expected from its 
labours, fears overbalanced hope, did not with 
hold its due meed of praise and commendation. 


Summing up the condition of society which had 
rendered a like organisation possible, he pointed 
out that in England millions lived and died out 
side any religious body. Half the population of 
London were practically without God in the 
world, and this state of things was the raison 
d etre of such a body as that founded by General 
Booth. A watchman s rattle is good at night, 
when men are sleeping. It is needless at noon 
day, when men are wide awake. The response 
called forth by the Salvation Army was the 
measure of the need to which it corresponded. 
London s spiritual desolation alone made it 
possible. To such a population a voice crying 
aloud in God s name was as a warning in the 
night. In the most outcast a voice answered. 
The words death, judgment, heaven, hell, were not 
mere sounds, but strokes upon the soul. The 
mass of men believed in right and wrong, 
judgment to come, hoped for a better world, 
believed that sin committed here found its sequel 
in a worse world. This was Wesley s strength ; 
it was also the strength of William Booth ; and 
good seed grew whoever might be the sower. 
Our heart s desire and prayer is that they who 
labour so fervently with the truths they have, may 
be led into the fulness of faith, and that they who 


are so ready to give their lives for the salvation of 
souls may be rewarded with life eternal/ 

Nine years later the Cardinal repeated, even 
more emphatically, his appreciation of the work 
and aims of the Salvation Army. Regarded as a 
religious movement he had, he said, no duty, here 
and now, to sit in judgment upon General Booth s 
project ; but in its character as a work of simple 
humanity, he declared it worthy of sympathy and 
support. At the present time three agencies 
existed for the relief of distress : first, the Poor 
Law, practically narrowed to those who were 
willing to enter the workhouse as paupers ; 
secondly, the Charity Organisation Society, which, 
though it was doing great good, avowedly rejected 
the unworthy, and was therefore inadequate as a 
means of reaching all ; and, thirdly, private alms, 
leaving, in spite of their amount, a vast desolation 
of misery untouched. 

This being the case, who, asked the Cardinal, 
that cared for human misery and ruin, could for 
bid others to do what they themselves were unable 
to do? General Booth had a great organisation 
of devoted men and women ready to go and wade 
in the midst of this dead sea of suffering. Only 
by means of human sympathy and human voices, 
appealing face to face with outcast and ruined 


souls, could men be won back to human life and 
to the law of God. If Booth could reach those 
whom other agencies fail to reach, who should for 
bid him ? If his zeal should rebuke the indolence 
of some, restore those rejected by others, and 
recall to order and rectitude those passed by as 
hopeless and worthless, it was a salutary lesson, 
to be thankfully learned. Let him try his hand, 
and if he failed, let others do better. Above all, 
it was intolerable to hinder him from feeding 
the starving and reclaiming the criminals of the 
present day, because in the next generation a 
normal state of capital and labour might provide 
employment. If others were forbidden by faith 
and conscience to co-operate in his work, they 
could bid God-speed to all who, in good faith, 
were toiling for at least the temporal good of out 
cast people. 1 

Thus, in the last year of his life, the Cardinal 
welcomed the labourers in another part of God s 
vineyard. Some men are ever, consciously or 
unconsciously, seeking grounds and reasons for 
tracing a dividing line. His search was in an 
opposite direction. * It is to me a consolation, 
he wrote to Dr. Dawson Burns at a time of 
personal loss, when I can find such a union in 

1 Darkest England. Paternoster Review, 1891. 


the midst of our sad disunion. Our Master would 
be better pleased and better served if we better 
knew each other. 

Between him and men like General Booth there 
was one great bond both were seeking the lost. 
To both the old Latin saying quoted by the 
Cardinal might be applied, I am a man, and 
nothing human is alien to me. Other phil 
anthropists might honestly limit their mission to 
men and women not so utterly sunk in the mire 
and slough of sin and misery as to be in their eyes 
irredeemable. To the old priest at Westminster, 
as to the founder of the Salvation Army, no single 
human being was beyond the reach of possible 

In a paper belonging to the year 1888, he set 
himself to plead the cause of the worthless, 
pointing out, as their advocate, the reasons 
to which their condition should be ascribed. 
Those reasons he considered to be three: the 
destruction of domestic life through the scandalous 
housing of the poor ; the drink trade ; the absence 
of a moral law and in masses of the population 
of the knowledge of God. From these causes 
resulted personal demoralisation, as well as what 
appeared to some people the greater enormities 
of imposture and idleness. These three causes 


were the direct results of the apathy or selfishness 
of society ; of legislation or neglect to legislate ; 
or of laws inefficiently administered. The pauper 
habit of mind was formed by overmuch poverty, 
helplessness, hopelessness, and loss of self-respect ; 
the temptation to gain unlawfully food denied, 
save on odious conditions, followed ; and the 
sight of the abundance enjoyed by those who 
never laboured produced the sense of injustice, 
and man being human a sting of resentment. 
The ostentation of luxury was a sharp temptation 
to despairing men, even when honest and upright. 
The moral nature gave way in the desperation 
of want ; crime and vice were the result Yet 
forgers and prostitutes had once been as far from 
their fall as those who moralised over them, 
fallen. And if this were true of all men, how 
much more true of the worthless. If they were 
worthless, it was because they had been wrecked 
by society, and what was society doing to redeem 
them ? None were beyond hope. Goodness over 
came evil ; kindness broke the hardest hearts ; 
sympathy, care, service, were powers that never 
failed. The memory of childhood was not dead. 
If it remained only as a gleam of innocence long 
past, it was also a throb of a higher life not yet 
extinct for ever. 


Such was, in brief, the Cardinal s plea for the 
pariahs of the world ; and he held out the right 
hand of fellowship to all who were labouring to 
reclaim them. There was work enough, and to 
spare, for all. Whilst eager, so far as he was 
able, to promote legislation which might tend to 
better the condition of the poor, he relied for 
amelioration chiefly upon personal ministry. In 
a paper upon Irresponsible Wealth he applied 
to the present relations of capital and labour 
the parable of the vineyard the plea and 
gospel of capital. In that parable capital made 
free contracts; labour accepted it without com 
plaint. When evening came labour murmured, 
not because it was underpaid, but because some 
one was overpaid. Capital answered, Is it not 
lawful for me to do what I will with my own ? 
Capital was in its rights ; the men in the wrong. 
But when did any capitalist in our day give a 
day s wages for one hour s work ? Measuring by 
the long day of disappointed waiting, the craving 
of nature and perhaps the hungry mouths at 
home, the lord of the vineyard was more than 
just ; he was generous : and if the parable is a 
warning against the murmuring of labour, it is 
also a warning against the despotic avarice of 
capital. Widespread unrest prevailed; the people 


were sore and discontented, capitalists alarmed ; 
capital and labour were forming combinations 
against each other. Where lay the remedy? 
Not in legislation ; not in political economy ; not 
in the present administration of the Poor Law; 
but in the law that created the Christian world 
personal sacrifice, the chanty of humanity, and 

After this manner, through the public press, 
the Cardinal urged in later years their duties 
upon those whom only in that fashion his voice 
could reach. It was perhaps little wonder if those 
who read or listened classed, by a confusion of 
terms, the democrat as the socialist. Yet he 
was careful to distinguish between the views he 
held and the socialistic programme. Those who 
called him socialist were, he explicitly stated, 
wrong. He was in favour of social organisation, 
not of socialism ; and between the terms social 
and socialism the difference was as great as 
between reason and rationalism. Socialism, in 
his opinion, tended to the destruction of existing 
society and was the result of an individualism 
destructive of the family. Social organisation, 
on the contrary, rested upon the sense of re 
ciprocal duties, the unity of the human race, 
and the benefits of union. Christianity being 


essentially an organiser, was incompatible with 
socialism. 1 

Socialism is in fact a term loosely employed 
by a world with no leisure to cultivate accuracy ; 
and it is not likely that the Cardinal s explana 
tion was satisfactory to those who had seen in 
his utterances cause for complaint. 

1 Conversation reported in the Figaro. 



The Knights of Labour Cardinal Manning s Interposition 
Labour Questions in England The Law of Nature 
Manning s Influence at the Vatican Interest in 
French Affairs Leo Xlil. s Encyclical on Labour. 

CARDINAL MANNING S interest in social questions 
was not limited to England. It will be seen that 
he was in warm sympathy with the movement in 
France represented by the Cercle Catholique 
d Ouvriers, and in 1887 the year of the Trafalgar 
Square riots the weight of his influence as a 
peace-maker was felt on the other side of the 
Atlantic. A crisis dangerous to the Catholic 
Church in America had arisen in the United 
States, the association of the Knights of Labour, 
a body including a vast number of members, 
having fallen under suspicion at Rome, and being 
threatened with excommunication. The matter 
had indeed gone so far that the Canadian members 
of the society had already incurred the condemna 
tion of the local ecclesiastical authorities, and had 
been deprived of the sacraments. 

The situation was serious. Well-meaning men 



were alarmed ; a change in the social structure 
appeared imminent ; labour seemed in a position 
to dictate terms to capital ; and a profound uneasi 
ness, not altogether without justification, prevailed 
amongst timid people. Thus Cardinal Gibbons, 
whose sympathies were no less strongly enlisted 
on the side of the working classes than those of 
Manning himself, afterwards summed up the situa 
tion at the moment when pressure had been 
brought to induce the Pope to take stringent 
measures with regard to the great labour organi 

What the results of that step would have been 
remains untested. When the policy of the Vatican 
was still trembling in the balances, the man whose 
life-work and vocation, according to Gibbons, was 
that of a mediator, standing between need and 
greed with hands of entreaty/ interposed to sup 
port his brother Cardinal in his vindication and 
defence of the body attacked, defendit/ to quote 
another writer, avec son flegme passione, sa 
serenite concentree et agissante, the cause of the 
working man, and carried the day. 

The manner of his intervention was marked by 
his usual whole-hearted zeal, whilst he used the 
opportunity to renew the ardent profession of his 
political faith. 


I have read with great assent/ he wrote to a 
member of the American episcopate, Cardinal 
Gibbons document in relation to the Knights of 
Labour. The Holy See will, I am sure, be con 
vinced by his exposition of the state of the New 
World. I hope it will open a new field of thought 
and action. It passes my understanding that 
officious persons should be listened to rather than 
official. . . . Hitherto the world has been governed 
by dynasties ; henceforth the Holy See will have 
to deal with the people ; and it has bishops in 
daily and personal contact with the people. The 
more clearly and fully this is perceived, the stronger 
Rome will be. ... Failure to see and use these 
powers will breed much trouble and mischief. 
My thanks are due to the Cardinal for letting me 
share in his arguments. If I can find a copy of 
my lecture on the Duties and Rights of Labour I 
will send it to him. It will, I think, qualify me 
for knighthood in the order. . . . The Church is 
the mother, fiiend, and protector of the people. 
As the Lord walked among them, so His Church 
lives among them. 

That the threatened blow was averted has been 
ascribed, if to Cardinal Gibbons advocacy in part, 
not a little to the co-operation of his English 


During the winter following upon his interposi 
tion in the American dispute, Cardinal Manning s 
attention was claimed by matters nearer home. 
Distress was severely felt among the London 
poor ; and he was as usual foremost in taking part 
in the efforts made to relieve it, occupying a place 
on Lord Compton s Committee, appointed to deal 
with the subject, and forming one of a deputation 
from that Committee to Lord Salisbury, designed 
to press upon the Government the necessity of 
measures of present relief and of permanent 
remedies which, so far as was possible, should 
prevent the recurrence of a like crisis. 

The principle he consistently laid down of the 
right of every man to * work or bread would seem 
to be one that none need shrink from avowing, 
but his open declaration of his convictions on this 
point, as on others, was made the subject of un 
sparing criticism from those who discerned in it a 
socialistic tendency. The Times, in particular 
attributing to him a suggestion he had never 
made, and which he at once repudiated referred 
to his ( wild proposition that the deserving unem 
ployed should be provided with work at the current 
rate of wages. 

In the case of the Times, criticism was possibly 
embittered by the fact that, in the speech made as 


one of the deputation to the Prime Minister, the 
Cardinal had stigmatized certain proposals printed 
in that newspaper for dealing with the question of 
the unemployed, as not only heartless but head 
less ; and the attacks made upon him in its 
columns drew forth from him two letters in vindi 
cation and explanation of his views. During the 
previous year, he said, the Times had observed, in 
treating of some words of his on the same subject, 
that he had taken refuge in confusion of thought 
a rebuke he had received with becoming meek 
ness and silence. On the present occasion he 
thought fit to reply. If he had impeached the 
working of the Poor Law, he had been careful to 
lay the responsibility of its failure upon the ad 
ministration of the law and not upon the guardians. 
That administration he declared to depend partly 
upon the tradition of the Local Government Board, 
partly upon public opinion, partly upon the spirit 
of a narrow so-called political economy which 
cramped the hearts of administrators and warped 
the administration of the law. He also expressed 
his conviction that the criminal class in London 
was produced by desperation. Having once, in 
the absence of work or bread, violated the law, a 
man fell thereby into the habit of violating it. 
Poverty, destitution, desperation, refusal of sym- 


pathy, caused a man, driven almost beyond self- 
control, to yield to temptation and to become a 

It was perhaps not unnatural that some of 
those who, like the Tablet, considered that if 
Dives represented the one extreme, the Devil 
represented the other, should have viewed parts 
of the Cardinal s speech with disfavour ; and 
besides his reply to his anonymous assailant in 
the Times, he thought it well to state his position 
with clearness and precision in an article contri 
buted to the American Catholic Quarterly, under 
the title of The Law of Nature Divine and 

Reiterating in plain terms the right of the poor 
to sustenance, no less than the obligation of 
others to support them when necessary, he ex 
plained the origin of the dispute in which he had 
been involved. The Poor Law had been attacked 
it will be remembered that it was with the 
administration and not with the law that he had 
found fault and it was in defending it that he 
had made the declaration that had given so 
much offence. He had affirmed that its founda 
tion was the natural right of the poor to work 
or bread. The next morning the Times had 
rebuked him for countenancing this popular 


fallacy. To call it a fallacy was to call it a 
falsehood, and from the imputation of having 
been guilty of a falsehood the Cardinal proceeded 
to defend himself in language little more calcul 
ated to propitiate his assailants than the utterance 
by which the attack had been called forth. 

Natural law, he contended, was supreme over 
all positive law. So strict was the natural right 
of every man to life, and to the food necessary 
for the sustenance of life, that it prevailed over 
all positive laws of property. Necessity had no 
law, and a starving man had a natural right to 
his neighbour s bread. Before the natural right 
to live, all human laws must give way. I have 
committed lese majesty he added, by rudely 
reminding some who rule over public opinion in 
London of the fresh mother earth and the 
primaeval laws which protect her offspring. I 
was unconscious of my audacity. I thought I 
was uttering truisms which all educated men 
knew and believed. But I found that these 
primary truths of human life were forgotten, that 
on this forgetfulness a theory and a treatment of 
our poor had formed a system of thought and 
action which hardens the heart of the rich and 
"grinds the faces of the poor." I am glad, 
therefore, that I said and wrote what is before 


the public, even though for a time some men 
have called me a socialist and a revolutionist, 
and have fastened upon a subordinate conse 
quence and neglected the substance of my con 
tention in behalf of the natural rights of the 

The part played by Cardinal Manning in 
solving the American difficulty leads up to the 
question of the measure and extent of his influence 
in such matters at the Vatican. In the absence 
of direct and specific evidence it is impossible to 
determine the question with certainty, but there 
are not wanting those who trace in the line 
adopted by Leo xin. towards social problems the 
influence of the English Cardinal. 

In spite of his extreme love and veneration for 
Pius IX., the later years of his Pontificate, 
viewed in their political aspect, and following 
in sorrowful sequence upon the brilliant promise 
of its opening, can scarcely have been regarded 
by Cardinal Manning as conducive to the further 
ance of the work he had at heart, in the con 
ciliation of the love and trust of the demo 
cracy. But if he had lamented, he had lamented 
in silence ; or had confined his remonstrances to 
special lines of policy such as that pursued in 


Italian affairs which he might have hoped to 
modify. He was a Lamennais, says the same 
French writer quoted before 1 who, though anony 
mous, may be taken as representing a certain 
body of opinion in the hierarchical and orthodox 
frame. Lamennais was impatient and exagger 
ated; Cardinal Manning, a diplomaitst and a 
peace-maker, recognised the limits of boldness, 
and the conditions of the evolutions he held 
to be necessary. At his death he had seen all 
his ideas afoot, living, luminous, irresistible. The 
evolution was on the eve of being an accom 
plished fact. The great modern Pope sym 
pathised with the great democratic Bishop. The 
world had been Romanised ; Rome ought now to 
be universalised, and perhaps, more than any 
other man, Cardinal Manning understood the 
situation. The cordiality of his relations with 
Leo XIII. was never interrupted. Cardinal Simeoni 
might complain of his activity, and say of him, 
Scrive troppo, but the Pope constantly sought his 
advice, and it was he who determined his move 
ment towards democracy. 2 

That he would have laboured towards that end 
is certain. To bring home to the minds of the 
poor, the unhappy, the oppressed, the fact that 

5. ^Nouvelle Revite, 1892. 


the Church of Christ was their natural protector 
and friend he counted no toil too great. His 
sympathies were at the service of all who were 
working in that direction, in England or abroad. 
In the account of a conversation with him pub 
lished by the Abbe Lemire l a visitor with two 
friends, at Archbishop s House in the autumn of 
1888 the eagerness with which he entered into 
the subject of France and her difficulties is de 
scribed. What she most wanted was, in his 
opinion, liberty, and above all liberty of associa 
tion. The Revolution had destroyed private initi 
ative. Centralisation was death. Paris dominated 
France ; her people had become used to that 
tyranny and awaited orders before taking action. 
Let them not be constantly asking for directions 
from the Government, but act for themselves. 

As to the French Church, he was ever an 
advocate of its disestablishment, and he expressed 
his opinion frankly to his French visitors, two of 
whom were priests. To be paid was to lose 
prestige. Liberty, it was true, was poverty ; but 
it was likewise public consideration, dignity and 
strength. A government made no account of 
those it paid it knew it was difficult for men 
who received money to impose conditions. 

1 Le Cardinal Manning et son Action Sociale. 


As the visit was about to conclude, the Cardinal s 
attention strayed to a boy of nine or ten who 
had accompanied his guests, and whose eyes were 
wandering to the portraits on the walls. 

Is that child to be a priest ? he asked, turning 
abruptly and characteristically from the considera 
tion of abstract principles and national questions 
to the thought of his little visitor s future. 

As God wills/ was the answer of the father ; 
and with the Cardinal s blessing the interview 

A letter to M. Harmel, the apostle of the 
Usine Chrtienne> reiterated, in 1890, in emphatic 
language, his convictions as to the need of 
conditions of labour which should render life 
human and domestic, as in great industrial centres 
was not possible at present. For that end three 
things were vitally necessary faith in God and 
obedience to His laws ; cordiality of relationship 
between employers and employed ; and a true 
correspondence between profits and wages. 

Some months later, in acknowledging a number 
of the xxieme Sie cle, he was no less explicit in 
defining his own attitude towards the problems 
of the day and the exaggerated individualism he 
held to be responsible for what he deplored. The 
coming century would show that human society 


was greater and nobler than what was merely 
individual ; although this doctrine, based on the 
law of nature and Christianity, was charged with 
socialism. It would be seen in the future, by the 
light of reason, what was the social condition of 
the world of labour, and upon what laws the 
Christian society of humanity rested. Politicians 
and political economists had had their day. The 
twentieth century would belong to the people and 
to the laws of common prosperity under Christian 

The twentieth century would belong to the 
people. There are men who recognise the fact 
and deplore it; who, admitting that the future 
must be dominated by the democracy, and that 
therefore terms must be made with it, bow 
to the necessity reluctantly, grudgingly, ever 
casting backward glances at a condition of things 
in greater conformity with their sense of fitness and 
right. Such was not Cardinal Manning s stand 
point. To a future under the suzerainty of the 
peoples he looked forward with a glad and 
generous faith. That the old order should pass 
away was in accordance with the working of 
natural laws. To deny the justice of those laws 
would be to impugn the moral government of the 


It was, however, inevitable that the militant 
tone of his letter, together with the doctrines 
enunciated, should have given fresh offence. 
f My letter to the xxieme Siecle has caused 
irritation in England, he wrote to the Comte 
de Mun, connected as leader with the Associa 
tion Catholique, I, like you, am charged with 
socialism. But here socialism is little studied 
it is a party cry. In the same letter he 
reiterated his sanguine anticipations of what the 
future would bring forth. The coming century 
will belong neither to the capitalists, nor to the 
bourgeoisie, but to the people. . . . If we win their 
confidence, we can counsel them. If we oppose 
them blindly, all good may be destroyed. I hope 
much from the action of the Church, whom all 
governments despoil and reject. Her true home 
is with the people. It hears her voice. 

Religion, in fact so Canon William Barry sums 
up the matter must be made the heart of 
democracy, democracy the hands of religion. 1 To 
effect that object was one of the main aims of the 
Cardinal s later years ; and before his death the 
Encyclical dealing with the conditions of labour, 
put forth by Leo XIIL, was to him a supreme cause 
of joy and thanksgiving. Promulgated some 

1 Dublin Review, April 1908. Rome and Democracy. 


eighteen months after Cardinal Manning s letter 
to the Comte de Mun had been written, the tone 
assumed by the Pope was in full accord with his 
most ardent aspirations, and the step was in his 
eyes full of promise for the future. How far his 
own influence was directly responsible for the pro 
nouncement must again remain uncertain ; but 
passages contained in it go far to support the 
contention of those who believed they detected 
his hand in its composition. 

There is a dictate of nature/ wrote Leo XIII., 
more imperious and more ancient than any 
bargain between man and man, that the remunera 
tion of the wage-earner must be sufficient to 
support him in reasonable and frugal comfort. 
Strikes were recognised as a lawful means of 
exercising restraint upon employers ; unions and 
co-operation amongst workmen were approved, 
the phrase c freedom of contract was made 
provisional. It was true that many of the 
principles laid down were of the nature of those 
truisms conceived by the Cardinal to be accepted 
by all educated men. But truisms acquire fresh 
force when enunciated by a Pope ; and those who 
were struggling to obtain for the poor their just 
rights may well have drawn encouragement from 
the utterance. It was welcomed as a step in the 


right direction even by some from whom it seemed 
to dissent, and though certain passages appeared 
to be aimed against the teaching of Henry George, 
the American reformer maintained that they were 
based upon a misapprehension of his doctrines due 
to misrepresentation ; and he expressed in an open 
letter to the Pope his conviction that in the 
Encyclical all his postulates were stated or 
implied. The beliefs in question being the 
primary perceptions of human reason, as well as 
the fundamental teaching of the Christian Church, 
Mr. George declared that, so far from shunning 
the judgment of religion that tribunal of which 
the Pope was the most august representative he 
earnestly sought it ; ending with an impassioned 
appeal to Pope Leo to carry on the work that had 
been begun. 

Servant of the servants of God/ he concluded, 
. . . in your hands, more than in those of any 
living man, lies the power to say the word and 
make the sign that shall end an unnatural divorce, 
and marry again to religion all that is pure and 
high in social aspiration/ 

If by reformers outside the Church the En 
cyclical was thus warmly welcomed, to Cardinal 
Manning, put forth only a few months before his 
death, and when his practical work was finished, it 


came more especially to endorse and bless his 
teaching on social questions : with the Pope s 
words sounding in his ears he could sing his 
Nunc Dimittis. In a paper dealing with the 
utterance he made, in his own phrase, his political 
testament as to matters social, repeating for the 
last time the convictions which, the result of a life 
time, had strengthened with time and experience. 
* L injustice et la misere sociale, wrote M. 
Brunetiere, M ont lui-meme emu d une pitie plus 
profonde d mesure qu il devenait en quelque sorte 
plus catholique, et s il a merite" d etre appele par 
ses compatriotes le Cardinal des Ouvriers il le 
doit au progres de son detachement de soi-meme. 
Though all might not concur in the wording of 
the statement, it may be admitted by everyone 
that a voluntary sacrifice of selfish interests, 
a progressive detachment from the world and 
the things of the world, as well as from class 
prejudice, is a means of acquiring an increased 
power of sympathetic comprehension of the 
condition of men to whom privation is no matter 
of choice ; who tread of necessity the hard and 
steep path of renunciation, and who are the 
disinherited of the nations. 

In the Cardinal s formal commentary upon the 
Encyclical he hailed it as a voice pleading for the 



people as no other Pontiff had pleaded before. 
None other had had the opportunity offered to 
Leo XIII., who, looking out of the watch-tower of 
the Christian world, had before him what no 
other Pontiff had seen the kingdoms of the 
world and the suffering of them. The moan of 
discontent and sorrow and toil went up. The 
modern world had become confluent. With 
facilitated means of intercommunication, toilers 
and workers were united by one living conscious 
ness. The world of to-day was a world of 
enormous wealth and endless labour ; the heart of 
the Pope was with the poor he had compassion 
on the multitude. And the Cardinal thanked 

The Dockers Strike. 

IT was during the year 1889, nearly two years 
before the issue of the Encyclical, that the episode 
occurred which, more than any other, afforded 
evidence of the place won by the people s Cardinal, 
and the work he had done. 

For close upon twenty-five years he had laboured 
unweariedly for the welfare of his poorer country 
men, men, women and children, to whatever de 
nomination they might belong. He had found 
the condition of public feeling and the strength of 
traditional prejudice such that prominent members 
of the established Church and of dissenting bodies 
alike would have shrunk from appearing upon a 
platform at the side of a Catholic dignitary. 
Gradually and patiently he had effected a change, 
until men of all opinions, religious, non-religious, 
and anti-religious, were glad to welcome him as a 
fellow-worker. But above all, and immeasurably 
more important, he had made the working men of 
London feel that in the Cardinal Archbishop they 
could confidently count upon a friend at need. 



For their sake he had braved denunciation as 
socialist and communist, had faced the disapproval 
of friends as well as of opponents, and had never 
striven to disguise opinions courting and inviting 
condemnation. Whether his views had been 
put forward in writing or in speech it had ever 
been done openly. From the first he had deter 
mined against anonymous intervention in current 
affairs. Whenever I have been compelled to put 
no name to any writing, as in newspapers/ he said, 
I have always let it be known that I was the writer. 
His great work had been carried on gradually ; 
men had become accustomed to his intervention 
in public affairs, to his presence on Royal Com 
missions, to his association with all bodies engaged 
in social reform ; but the scope and extent of what 
had been accomplished was probably unsuspected 
by those who had not either shared or followed 
closely the details of the Cardinal s labours. It 
was the history of the Dockers Strike which en 
lightened the world as to the position he held. 
Belonging to the last epoch of his life, the affair 
fitly summed up the achievements of the years he 
had ruled at Westminster. 1 

1 For the history of the strike I am mainly indebted to the 
account of it given by Mr. Llewellyn Smith and Mr. Vaughan 
Nash, to Mr. Sydney Buxton s contribution to Archbishop 
Temple s Life, and to the accounts in the Times. 


The great strike had its beginnings small be 
ginnings showing little cause for uneasiness or 
excitement in the middle of August 1889. A 
month later it had run its course, had enlisted the 
mass of public opinion on its side, had received 
the generous financial support of Australia, without 
which the struggle could scarcely have been brought 
to a successful end ; and had won what it demanded, 
without bloodshed and without disorder ; though 
at the cost of how much suffering to the men who 
took part in it, their wives and their children, of 
how much anxiety, fear and misgiving to those 
seeking to guide and stem and control the great 
force set loose, none can tell. 

On August 29th, the strike had already lasted 
a fortnight, and neither party showed signs of 
surrender. The demands of the men had been 
formulated; they had been refused. Money had 
not yet begun to come in from without to any 
appreciable degree, and hunger and destitution 
were staring the strikers in the face. The situation, 
too, was not without other disquieting features for 
those who looked on. 

Disorder and horse-play, said the Cardinal 
afterwards, which at any moment might turn to 
collisions with the people or the police, were 
imminent. ... At any moment a drunkard, or a 


madman, or a fool, might have set fire to the 
docks and warehouses. The commercial wealth 
of London, and the merchandise of the world, the 
banks and wharves of the Thames, might have 
been pillaged and the conflagration might have 
spread for hours before order, at unimaginable 
loss, could be restored. And all this/ pursued 
the Cardinal, because a strike is " a matter be 
tween us and our men." 

The Directors were to be reminded that two 
other parties besides masters and men, employers 
and employed, were interested in the struggle 
namely, the multitude of suffering women and 
children, and the whole peaceful population of 

Before this wholesome consideration had been 
forced upon their attention, a desperate step had 
been proposed. This was no less than the issue 
of an appeal to all the trades of the metropolis to 
join in a general strike. It would have been a 
policy, if not of despair, of something approaching 
to it. Already the skilled labour of the docks and 
the riverside industries, with nothing to gain by 
their loyalty, had determined to throw in their lot 
with the dockers, and to support them in their 
demands. It was now decided to attempt to 
move the entire trade of London to take up a 


similar attitude, and on the night of Thursday, 
August 2pth, a no-work manifesto was drawn up 
by the leaders of the strike, calling upon all fellow- 
workmen to desist from work on the following 

The proximate cause of the step had been an 
offer from the joint Committee of Directors, sitting 
in Dock House, Leadenhall Street, which, wearing 
the guise of concession, practically left many of 
the men s grievances untouched. At Wade s Arms, 
Poplar, where the daily meetings of the executive 
of the strike were held, the disappointment had 
been bitter, expressing itself in this appeal for 
assistance from their comrades. 

The wisdom of the measure was more than 
doubtful. It was calculated, in the first place, to 
alarm the general public, and to alienate the 
sympathy hitherto shown. It was also uncertain 
in the extreme whether the response made would 
be sufficient to counterbalance the damage thereby 
inflicted upon the cause. Friendly as the Trades 
Unions were to the men on strike, the demand 
was one to tax their disinterestedness to the 
utmost. Would it stand the strain ? The question 
is fortunately left without an answer. 

On the Friday following the issue of the no- 
work manifesto, and when two days still remained 


before it would come into active operation, Cardinal 
Manning made his first effort to act as mediator 
between the belligerents. In an interview with 
the Directors he urged upon them reconsideration 
of their position, pointed to the chances of riot and 
bloodshed, and warned them plainly, that in case 
of disorder, they would be charged by the public 
with the responsibility. 

His protest, as might have been expected, was 
fruitless. It was not likely that, at the present 
stage of the struggle, the Directors so far masters 
of the situation would have consented to listen 
to the counsels and warnings of one they naturally 
regarded as an intermeddler in matters with which 
he had no concern. The step taken by the men 
on the previous night, if not a blunder, had been 
at the least a confession of their desperate condi 
tion, and was no incentive to the employers to give 
way. In his reply to the Cardinal, the spokesman 
of the Joint Committee reasserted their right to 
buy labour at the cheapest rate at which it could 
be obtained. It remained to be proved what that 
rate was. 

On the very day that the unpopular manifesto 
had been made public, the outlook had changed. 
It had become known that Australia was coming 
to the rescue, and the first instalments of the 


money afterwards contributed with lavish gener 
osity had been received. It was rendered possible, 
though not easy, to wait, and on the Saturday the 
appeal to the Trades was withdrawn before it had 
had time to take practical effect. 

The days went on, and as the struggle showed 
no signs of terminating, Cardinal Manning, like 
others, waited and watched ; haunted by the fear 
that some irresponsible agitator might stir up the 
passions of the men ; and that the order hitherto 
maintained by their leaders Burns, Tillett, Cham 
pion and the rest might be followed by riot 
and bloodshed. The possibility might well be a 
terror to those who had the men s interests at 

On September 5, a summons to more active 
intervention reached the Cardinal, in the shape of 
a message from the leaders of the strike to the 
effect that the coal-heavers, who, after throwing in 
their lot with the Dock labourers had returned to 
work, were again prepared to join the strike in 
case the Directors refused to come to terms. The 
menace was a serious one. Had the coal supply 
failed, railroads and gas-works would have been 
affected ; and the Cardinal, with full appreciation 
of the threatening crisis, set to work without delay 
to avert it. 


When the strike was a thing of the past, Mr. 
Boulton, Chairman of the London Board of Con 
ciliation, established to meet similar difficulties, 
in discussing the affair with the Cardinal, frankly 
stated his opinion that, though a debt of profound 
gratitude was due to him for having brought it 
to a conclusion, yet that the arbitration of an 
individual was not a safe or normal method of 
settling labour disputes. He was undoubtedly 
right, and the Cardinal, after a short pause, 
expressed his concurrence in the view. It was 
not, he agreed, part of the business of a prelate to 
fix rates of wages. But he offered a sufficient 
apology, if apology were needed, for his inter 
ference. Things had gone from bad to worse. 
He had received information making him certain 
that renewed efforts would be made to bring 
labourers from a distance that the attempt 
would be met with resistance, and bloodshed 
would be the probable result. Finding that no 
other mediator acceptable to the opposed parties 
was available, he offered his services. Such was 
the explanation he gave of the motives which had 
caused his intervention. 

No time was to be lost, and his first visit was 
paid to the Home Office, finding both Secretary 
and Under-Secretary absent from London. He 


next proceeded to the Mansion House, where, 
though the Lord Mayor was in Scotland, he had 
an interview with his deputy, Sir Andrew Lusk, 
as well as with the second in command of the 
London police. On the following day, Friday, 
September 6th, Sir Andrew accompanied the 
Cardinal to the Dock House, and a visit was 
paid to the Directors. They received us very 
courteously, recorded the Cardinal, but nothing 
came of it. 

By this time, if not before, the world at large 
had awakened to the importance of what was 
going forward. The Lord Mayor had returned 
to his post, and with the Bishop of London, come 
from Wales, was prepared to co-operate with the 
mediators already in the field, including Mr. 
Sydney Buxton who, as member for Poplar, had 
been strenuously engaged in the work of relief 
Lord Brassey, and Sir John Lubbock, Chairman 
of the London Chamber of Commerce. By some 
of these men, the Cardinal amongst them, an 
appeal to the shareholders was contemplated as 
a last resource, should their representatives prove 
obdurate. It was to be seen whether that step 
would be necessary. 

On Friday the Conciliation Committee met at 
the Mansion House Burns and Tillett, summoned 


thither by telegram. Upon the substantial justice 
of the men s demands the Committee were agreed; 
but it was considered that an interval of time 
should be granted to the Directors before the 
increase of wages insisted upon should come into 
operation. The length of that interval was the 
principal point under discussion. March i had 
been the date adopted by a majority of the 
Committee; but Burns and Tillett, called into 
consultation, protested against so long a post 
ponement, and declared their belief that any such 
proposal would be rejected by the men. 

1 1 appeal to your Eminence, added Burns, 
and to you, my Lord Bishop, and to Mr. Buxton, 
whether the men in this strike have not behaved 
with " sweet reasonableness ? " 

It was the Cardinal who answered, with an 
emphatic assent. 

My son, they have, he said. 

In that case, returned Burns, he thought they 
should not be asked to await till March the increase 
in their wages. 

In the end a compromise was agreed upon. 
Terms were drawn up for the consideration of 
the Directors, including a rise in pay of a penny 
an hour, to come into force on January 1st. 
Should the Companies be willing to make this 


concession, it was understood that the two leaders 
present Champion and Mann had not received 
their summons in time to appear would advise 
the men on strike to accept it. Their power 
extended no further. 

That evening, accordingly, at six o clock, the 
Lord Mayor, the Cardinal, and the Bishop of 
London, waited upon the Dock Directors. The 
Lord Mayor acquainted the Committee with the 
fact that supplies were pouring in upon him from 
Australia. He furthermore hinted at a Mansion 
House fund. It was made clear, had there pre 
viously been any doubt on the subject, that the 
strikers, should reasonable demands on their 
behalf be rejected, would not be permitted to 
fight their battle unsupported. The Cardinal, for 
his part, reiterated the warning he had already 
given, and pointed to the possibilities of disorder 
and bloodshed. 

No definite answer was obtained that evening, 
but Mr. Norwood, representing the Directors, 
promised that the suggested compromise should 
receive consideration on the following day. On 
Saturday the four most prominent members of 
the Conciliation Committee the Lord Mayor, the 
Cardinal, the Bishop and Mr. Buxton waiting 
anxiously at the Mansion House, with Tillett and 


Burns, received, at four in the afternoon, the reply 
of the Directors. It proved to be, on the face of 
it at least, a surrender. 

Not without deprecation of the principle of 
interference from without, characterised by the 
Directors as a very dangerous departure in dis 
putes between employers and workmen, and one 
that may have very far-reaching consequences in 
the future, they admitted that the circumstances 
were so altered by the weight of the influence 
thrown by the members of the Conciliation Com 
mittee into the scales and by their representations 
doubtless too by the weight of the unexpected 
Australian gold that they were prepared to 
agree, under certain conditions, to the terms 
proposed. One of those conditions was that the 
labourers should signify through the Lord Mayor, 
the Cardinal, and the Bishop, the acceptance of 
the arrangement that very evening. 

Such was the answer addressed to the four 
principal mediators. Such was the offer pro 
visionally accepted by Burns and Tillett. Worn 
out and overstrained, they were for once not 
disposed to assume a critical attitude. The 
proposal came through men they trusted ; over 
looking the significance of the proviso that the 
answer was to be returned that night, they gave 


an incautious welcome to the possibility of peace ; 
and, though not pledging the men, hastened away 
to place the offer before the Strike Committee 
sitting at Wade s Arms. 

At the Mansion House the mediators remained 
anxiously awaiting the result. At ten o clock no 
answer had come, save a silence which boded ill 
for success and would leave the Directors a way 
of retreat from the concessions wrung from them. 
Between ten and eleven a reply was brought, to 
the effect that no decision could be arrived at 
that night. 

The next morning, Sunday, such are the 
Cardinal s words appeared a manifesto repudi 
ating terms, negotiations and negotiators. With 
what bitterness of disappointment he learnt that 
morning s tidings may be guessed. 

What had happened has been variously repre 
sented, according to the bias and sympathies of 
the narrator, and by some Burns and Tillett have 
been freely charged with bad faith. That a grave 
blunder had been committed is certain, though it 
is less easy to place the responsibility for it, and 
the Directors were at length provided with a 
genuine grievance. The truth seems to be that 
the offer had been from the first quite inadequate 
to meet the situation, and that to accept it would 


have been in large measure to forfeit the fruits of 
the strike. This fact, strangely misapprehended 
by the two leaders who had viewed it in some sort 
through the more unpractised eyes of the Mansion 
House mediators, was at once patent to the col 
leagues to whom it was submitted. The post 
ponement of the rise of wages for three months 
by which time the year s press of work would be 
over was practically to postpone the benefit to 
be derived from it till the slack season following 
upon Christmas should be past. The money was 
imperatively needed and at once on this point 
all were agreed, including, after discussion, Burns 
and Tillett themselves. Another, and not a less 
important fact, was certain. The men on strike 
would not endorse any acceptance of the proffered 
terms. They were accordingly unanimously re 
jected, and a manifesto was drawn up to deny the 
report current in the streets that the strike was at 
an end. 

It was in this condition of things that the usual 
Sunday meeting was held in Hyde Park. By all 
the situation was considered critical. It is notori 
ously difficult to maintain enthusiasm on the part 
of a mass of men at a high point for any consider 
able period. Where it is necessarily accompanied 
by privation, strain, and effort, the difficulty is 


incalculably enhanced. Financial assistance was 
still coming in, but there was a danger that the 
moral support drawn from the sense that the 
public opinion of England was, on the whole, on 
the side of the strike, would be forfeited. Sym : 
pathy had been lessened or alienated by the events 
of the previous day due, in Mr. Sydney Buxton s 
opinion, to mutual misunderstanding and, dis 
heartened and weary of the protracted struggle, 
a portion of the men were inclined to surrender. 
Failure, after all that had been done, was more 
than possible, and failure meant the wasting of 
weeks of incessant toil and hardship. 

The day was a hot autumn one. The usual 
procession to Hyde Park described by a spec 
tator was attended by dwindling numbers. The 
men were tired and dispirited, public interest was 
on the wane. As a halt was made at Westminster, 
a thick haze hung about, obscuring the distance 
in which the long line of banners and men was 

The Park reached, the leaders did their best to 
re-animate the drooping spirits of the men. Let 
them hold together, urged Burns, as they had held 
together so far in spite of starving wives and 
children. He did not minimize the stress of the 

situation ; they were in a worse case than soldiers 



on the field of battle. Soldiers had death behind 
them and victory in front. The Dockers had 
worse than death behind the living death wives 
and children had suffered for generations. 

Champion also spoke, enforcing the mainte 
nance of order, and pointing onwards to the boast 
it would be in the power of Englishmen to make, 
when the cause had been won without bloodshed 
or great waste of wealth. Turning to the question 
of the negotiations, he said they had been begun 
by Cardinal Manning, respected by all ; who had 
told himself and Burns that his anxiety to see the 
strike ended was not alone in the interest of the 
40,000 Roman Catholics joining in it, but in the 
interest of the other men for whom he had no less 

The meeting over, Tillett repaired to Arch 
bishop s House, to make the formal announcement 
that the suggested compromise was declined ; 
the Cardinal not disguising the fact that he felt 
that he had been placed in a false position, and 
negativing the suggestion of a march past his 

The result of the failure was immediately ap 
parent. The altered position in public estima 
tion of the leaders who were considered to have 
been false to their pledge was indicated by the 


withdrawal of the Bishop of London from any 
participation in future negotiations. 1 The Lord 
Mayor was irritated ; but Cardinal Manning, with 
inexhaustible patience, summoned the leaders to 
a fresh conference in the afternoon, and in the 
end the Lord Mayor was likewise induced to 
continue his good offices, the Cardinal remaining 
the only ecclesiastic on the Conciliation Com 
mittee. I am not sure, he said afterwards with 
a smile, whether any others of my episcopal 
brethren were in England at the time. 

The mediators had undoubtedly cause for serious 
annoyance at the scant ceremony or even courtesy 

1 Canon Mason, in a contribution to the Memoirs of Archbishop 
Temple (vol. ii. p. 148), gives a curiously erroneous account of 
the affair, so far as the Bishop s action in it was concerned. As 
soon, he says, as the main lines of the settlement were made, the 
Bishop returned to his holiday. It is, I dare say, true that the 
strikers themselves had won the main part of their cause before the 
ecclesiastics intervened ; but the intervention at any rate brought 
about peace more quickly than it would otherwise have come and 
especially the intervention of the Bishop of London. If the Bishop 
had not come, the Lord Mayor would not have come ; and if the Lord 
Mayor had not come, I much doubt whether Manning s somewhat 
one-sided interposition might not even have delayed matters. If 
it is fair to add that Canon Mason was writing from abroad, and 
without notes to guide him with regard to dates, the Editor of 
Archbishop Temple s Memoirs might have been expected to have 
corrected his mis-statements before allowing them to appear in 
print. An entry in Archbishop Benson s diary is marked by a 
more generous spirit. Cardinal Manning has done well for 
London, he wrote on September 17, but why has my dear Bishop 
of London gone back and left it to him ? 


with which they had been treated. But it was 
not a moment to allow personal considerations to 
weigh, nor was the Cardinal a man to do so. 
Though he had reluctantly signed, with his two 
colleagues, the Lord Mayor and the Bishop, the 
letter which, in Monday s newspapers, charged the 
men with a breach of faith, he was already, when 
it appeared, engaged in his fresh effort on their 
behalf. In his summary of the affair, he places 
his second act of mediation on this Sunday, 
describing it as the beginning again, on the 8th, 
after the manifesto of repudiation. 

Beginning again is proverbially a difficult busi 
ness. Failure prophesies and paves the way for 
failure. What had passed had rendered the work 
of conciliation immeasurably harder. Through a 
blunder of their leaders the men had been placed 
apparently in the wrong ; and public opinion 
this must be repeated, since public opinion was an 
important factor in the matter hitherto almost 
solidly in their favour, was veering. But to the 
aged priest at Westminster difficulties were only 
a more imperative call to set his hand to the 

Meantime, at Tower Hill next day, a meeting 
was held, when Burns, announcing a further instal 
ment of a thousand pounds from Australia, made 


one of his most stirring speeches to his anxious 
and weary hearers. Let them stand together, he 
said, sick of the business though they were. It 
was the Lucknow of labour. 

At three o clock, the meeting over, seven of the 
chiefs of the strike, in response to a telegraphic 
summons, repaired once more to the Mansion 
House, Outside, they were met by Mr. Buxton ; 
in the vestibule Cardinal Manning was found ; 
who, having despaired of their coming, was pre 
paring to go alone to Poplar, to visit in person the 
Strike Committee at its headquarters. 

In carrying on his negotiations with the leaders 
he was confronted with no easy task. If the public 
were angry with the leaders, the leaders, on their 
side, were angry with the public sore and em 
bittered, they had been accused of bad faith and 
were in no forgiving mood. But if any man could 
hope to move them from their attitude of defiant 
hostility it was the Cardinal, and it was he who 
took the chief part in the argument that followed, 
pleading that he had had more experience of men 
than they. Than the lot of us put together/ 
agreed Burns, eager to make what admissions he 
could. Declining to accept any answer as final 
until the matter had been thoroughly discussed, 
the Cardinal in the end had his way, and the 


recalcitrant leaders consented to join the Lord 
Mayor and Sir John Lubbock in the meeting 
room. It was when this had been done that one 
of the representatives of the men, Toomey by 
name, made the suggestion which, acted upon, 
resulted in peace. He proposed that the Cardinal 
should meet the United Strike Committees in 
Poplar at the Kirby Street schools, when he would 
have the opportunity of speaking face to face 
with the men upon whom the issue of the struggle 

That day, Tuesday, September loth, was marked 
by Cardinal Manning as the date of the third 
act of mediation falling to his share. It was the 
beginning of the end. 

When, with Mr. Buxton, he reached Poplar, it 
was five o clock, the hour agreed upon. About 
sixty-five men were present in the room, and each 
man, at his request, was presented to him in turn 
by name, a species of personal relationship being 
thus established. The proceedings were then 
inaugurated by a speech in which Tillett stated 
his reasons for refusing the suggested compromise, 
the Cardinal in his reply dealing with the objec 
tions severally and making a fresh proposal, namely, 
that the difference in date between the demand of 
the men and the offer of the Directors should be 


split, and that the increased rate of wages should 
begin on November 4th. For twenty minutes he 
spoke * very patiently, urging his hearers, with the 
air of gentle authority which won the hearts of all 
who had dealings with him throughout the strike, 
to consider, not themselves alone, but those depen 
dent upon them and the public issues hanging 
upon their action. 

Mr. Buxton spoke next, briefly endorsing what 
had been stated. But the men maintained their 
unconciliatory attitude. For two hours, the 
Cardinal himself said, c there was little hope. . . . 
Gradually a change came ; and Mr. Champion 
moved a resolution adopting my proposal and 
empowering me to treat with the Directors. This 
was at last carried by twenty-eight to fifteen, 
nineteen Surrey men not voting, their demand 
being distinct from the north. 

Thus the victory is laconically described by its 
chief agent. A more detailed account of it is 
given elsewhere. Leader after leader had suc 
cumbed and advised surrender ; Tillett alone was 
obdurate, Burns remaining neutral. The debate 
had gone on and still the issue hung in the balance. 
After more than three hours the Cardinal rose to 
make his ultimate appeal. Recapitulating what 
had passed, he turned for a moment from the men 


to himself, and defined his position, accountable 
to no human authority and responsible to God 
alone. Then he adjured his hearers not to pro 
long the perilous uncertainty of that hour, and 
with it the sufferings of women and children. 
Manning was not a great orator, but he had the 
secret of stirring the hearts and emotions of his 
hearers. Overstrained, excited and moved by his 
words, there were those amongst his listeners 
whose eyes were wet. Just above his uplifted 
hand was a carved figure of the Madonna and 
Child, and some among the men tell how a sudden 
light seemed to swim round it as the speaker 
pleaded for the women and children. When he 
sat down all in the room knew in their own minds 
that he had won the day, and that, so far as the 
Councils were concerned, that was the end of the 
strike the Cardinal s peace. 

A provisional agreement was signed and 
placed in his hands, with which he was em 
powered to go to the Directors, and the meeting 
broke up. When late that evening Westminster 
was reached, the Cardinal had touched no food 
since his dinner at one o clock, yet so little was he 
in a condition of exhaustion that he could describe 
to his secretary all that had taken place. His 
victory sustained him till the work was done. 


It remained to deal with the Dock House. On 
the Thursday a prolonged interview between the 
Cardinal and the Directors took place, a telegram 
from the Lord Mayor, who had been called out of 
London, authorising the former to speak in his 
name as well as in his own. I was therefore 
empowered by both the men and the Lord 
Mayor, wrote the Cardinal afterwards. Hactenus 
Balaam s ass. 

The Directors proved harder to move than their 
opponents, and no definite answer was then given. 
1 1 never in my life, said the Cardinal, describing 
his visit, preached to so impenitent a congrega 
tion. Nevertheless, complete friendliness was 
maintained, the Cardinal remaining to tea with 
the recalcitrant masters, before loudly cheered 
by the crowd as he left he proceeded to meet the 
representatives of the opposite party, whose 
signatures were necessary before the Directors 
would consent to give their consideration to any 

If there was still much to be done, every one 
knew that since the meeting in Poplar the end 
was a foregone conclusion. The Directors might 
attempt to save their dignity by difficulties and 
hesitation, but they were conquered; and Burns 
speech on Tower Hill, on Friday, September 13, 


was that of a captain when the battle is over. 
Amongst those who had tried to put an end to it, 
he must, he said, give the premier position to 
Cardinal Manning. That such a man should 
have championed their cause was a compliment 
to the Dock Labourers. 

Saturday, September 14, saw the struggle 
formally concluded. Beginning the day s work 
by an interview with representatives of the 
Lightermen s Work and Wages Committee; the 
Cardinal next attended a meeting of the Associa 
tion of Master Lightermen and Barge Owners at 
Eastcheap. Late in the afternoon he was again 
at Dock House; and proceeded immediately 
afterwards to the Mansion House, where a final 
meeting of the Conciliation Committee with the 
Strike leaders took place. Speeches were made by 
Burns and by the Lord Mayor, and lastly by the 
Cardinal. The Lord Mayor, he said, had so fully 
expressed what he felt that he hesitated to add 
anything. But he should like to dwell upon the 
singular self-command and order that had pre 
vailed. The strike had not been stained by 
anything that could detract from its honour, and 
he hoped the future would be equally unstained. 
As regarded himself, had he not done the little he 
had attempted to do he would have been guilty of 


a dereliction of duty. He had simply done what 
he felt to be incumbent upon him from the position 
he held ; and what he was bound to do for the 
love of his dear country, and the love of all men 
joined together in the brotherhood of their 

So the long day ended. The proposed date 
was accepted ; the Lightermen were won over by 
the Lord Mayor and the Cardinal, the Surrey Side 
Committee by Mr. Buxton and Mr. Burns. The 
agreements were signed, and that night a notice was 
posted outside Wade s Arms, to the effect that the 
strike was at an end, and that all men were to 
resume work on Monday. The * Cardinal s peace 
was triumphant. 

Cardinal Manning did not escape he could 
scarcely be expected to escape the ungenerous 
charge of having made capital out of the oppor 
tunity for ends of his own. In view of the assertion 
that his intervention had been no more than a 
successful bid for popularity, Mr. Boulton con 
sidered it his duty to state his personal conviction, 
that his action throughout the whole of these 
labour troubles was dictated by complete disin 
terestedness and self-abnegation. The same 
authority also paid a tribute to the Cardinal s 
earnestness and sincerity during that critical 


juncture as well as afterwards ; his welcome of 
criticism, and readiness to listen to adverse 
arguments ; dwelling likewise upon the charm 
and dignity of his manner and his clear and quick 
appreciation of points urged in opposition to his 
own conclusions. From the Chairman of the 
London Board of Conciliation, in disagreement 
with him not only upon questions of religion, but 
upon various political issues, Mr. Boulton s 
testimony may be allowed to carry special weight. 
Thus ended one of the most remarkable episodes 
in Cardinal Manning s career. I believe/ he 
wrote to a friend, * that our Lord used me as he 
did Balaam s ass. I have been so long working 
with working men that it is no difficulty to me ; 
and somehow I am known to the English working 
men as well as to any. They listened to me 
readily from the first. Perhaps nothing is more 
significant of the degree to which he had identified 
himself with the struggle than the tone of a brief 
notice of the affair he contributed, at the request 
of an editor, to a magazine. Excusing himself 
from enlarging on the subject, since it is not those 
who have fought in a battle who are best qualified 
to describe it, he added that, * without any blind 
self-praise/ he believed he might say that since 
the Cotton Famine of the north there had been 


no nobler example of self-command the self- 
command of the men the measured language 
and courtesy of the employers. 1 

In his eighty-first year it is difficult, in the 
face of the arduous and strenuous activity of those 
days to bear in mind the fact of his great age he 
had been given the opportunity of testifying by 
act and deed what can never be equally demon 
strated by words written or spoken, his convictions 
upon one of the greatest problems of the day the 
relations of capital and labour. 

It is not true/ he wrote more than a year later, 
that such contests are the private affairs of 
masters and men. But the theory will not die 
until it is killed by some public catastrophe. 

But, your Eminence, some one had protested 
during the fight, it is socialism that you are 

1 1 do not know whether it means socialism to 
you, was his reply. To me, it means Christanity. 

Of the strike itself, John Burns, writing when it 
was over, and he was in a position to look back 
and take stock of loss and gain, asked the question 
had it been worth while the misery entailed, the 
hardship, the privation, the hunger and he 
answered in the affirmative. 

i-New Review, October 1889. 


The capacity for self-sacrifice is the phil 
osopher s stone that every agitator seeks for. He 
is powerless until he finds it ; finding it, he has no 
more to ask. This power of self-sacrifice has been 
the great note of the Dockers Strike. l 

l New Review, October 1889. 


Split in the Irish Party Manning s Attitude His Forecasts 
Interview with M. Boyer d Agen. 

FOLLOWING upon the episode of the Dockers 
Strike that brilliant postscript to the Cardinal s 
long life-story came another of a different char 

There are pages in the lives of all men that a 
biographer would prefer to leave unwritten, more 
especially when the facts they contain seem to be 
at variance with the traditions of a lifetime, and 
to have, so to speak, no right to their place on 
the record. 

The course pursued by Cardinal Manning at 
the time of the split in the Irish Party, during 
the winter of 1890-91, comes to those who have 
followed his steps so far with a shock of dis 
appointment. It is fair, on the other hand, that, 
in judging of a line of conduct and in seeking the 
motives by which it was dictated, a man s previous 
career should be taken into account. Cardinal 
Manning had doubtless his failings. He was 

& 223 


guilty of errors of judgment ; he had probably 
been frequently mistaken in his estimates of men ; 
he was self-reliant and, as some might call it, 
headstrong to a fault, and slow to confess to an 
error ; but the critic looks in vain for the abandon 
ment of a cause in deference to expediency ; nor 
had he ever been prone to be led or swayed 
by the clamour of the multitude. His own 
words leave no doubt that he concurred in 
the sacrifice of the Irish leader and must be 
allowed to rank him, on this solitary occasion, 
with the crowd to whom the verdict of a court of 
law on a matter of private conduct sets the line 
of demarcation between the culprit who is eligible 
for public life and him who is to be excluded 
from it. But it is no more than just to seek for his 
conduct a motive other than the ignoble oppor 
tunism by which mere politicians were swayed. 
Such a motive is found in a letter he wrote at the 

1 For many years/ he said, I have held that a 
judicial record such as that in Mr. Parnell s case 
disqualifies a man for public life. From the 
moment of this deplorable divorce case I have 
held Mr. Parnell to be excluded from leadership, 
not on political but on moral grounds. 

For once his clear-sightedness was at fault. He 


failed to perceive all that was involved in the 
admission of the principle of judging a public 
man upon private issues, and of allowing an 
action affecting neither the confidence to be 
placed in him as a political leader, nor his 
capacity for the performance of his duties, to 
preclude him from continuing to occupy his 
post. But if the Cardinal committed an error of 
judgment, he was not guilty, like others, of acting 
in servile obedience to a mere popular outcry. 
The moment the decree had become known, 
so Morley states, he had written to the Irish 
Bishops to express his persuasion, not only that 
Mr. Parnell s leadership could not be upheld in 
London, but that no political expediency could 
outweigh the moral sense, and fhat plain and 
prompt speech was safest. 1 He is therefore 
cleared from the imputation of having held his 
judgment suspended until convinced, like Mr. 
Gladstone avowedly subservient to the English 
voter; like the majority of the Irish Members; 
like the Roman Catholic hierarchy in Ireland, 
that political expediency and self-interest required 
the abandonment of the leader. 2 

1 See Morley s Life of Gladstone. 

2 See Morley s Life of Gladstone. The story is made clear by 
an examination of dates. The decree of the Law Court was made 
on November 17. On November 18, Mr. Gladstone expressed 



Even had he foreseen what were to be the 
consequences to Ireland and to its hopes of the 
policy pursued, it is not likely that he would have 
modified his line of conduct. But if his sagacity 
had failed him upon the abstract question at 
issue, it had done so no less upon the result of 
the present application of the principle. Viewed 
in conjunction with subsequent events, it is easy 
to see how, as a matter of worldly wisdom alone, 
the sacrifice of their chief, in deference to an 
English party cry and at the bidding of an 
English statesman, was destined to prove fatal 
to the hopes of his followers. Yet so little had 
Manning apprehended the true character and 
extent of the catastrophe that, in a letter to 
Mr. Justin M Carthy, the pilot who had replaced 
Mr. Parnell at the helm, he wrote that he saw 
Ireland rising and re-organising itself, after a 
passing obscuration, upon the old and only lines 

surprise at the quiescence of the Irish Bishops and clergy. The 
meeting in Leinster Hall took place on November 2Oth, no sign 
of revolt being apparent at it. In London, on November 25, 
Mr. Parnell was re-elected to the leadership by the Irish Party, 
still ignorant of the line adopted by Mr. Gladstone, which became 
public immediately after, with the well-known result. Not until 
November 3Oth did the Irish Bishops pronounce against Mr. 
Parnell, Archbishop Walsh explaining that they had been slow 
to act, trusting that the party would act manfully, and complaining 
that their considerate silence and reserve were being dishonestly 


which had unfolded its noble life throughout the 

The words, in the light of what was to follow, 
read like irony. More inexplicable and incon 
sistent still, save on the hypothesis that he was 
yielding to a passing access of anger and dis 
appointment, is the statement he has been quoted 
as making in a private letter, to the effect that for 
ten years Ireland had been dragged by politicians, 
and that it was now his hope that it would return 
to its old guides. 

Such is briefly the history, so far as it can be 
constructed from available records, of the share 
taken by Cardinal Manning in the Irish disaster. 
Whatever may be thought of it, it is curious and 
interesting to find that too late, and when death 
had removed the captain alone capable of leading 
Ireland to victory, he explicitly recognised the 
services Mr. Parnell had rendered to the country, 
paying him a tribute scarcely to be reconciled 
with his earlier attitude, and seeming to contain 
a tardy and tacit admission of error. The last 
man to give expression to useless sentiment ; the 
last, when the time for practical reparation was 
past, to utter vain regrets ; the last, it must be 
added, to acknowledge himself mistaken, there is 
nevertheless discernible in the account of a visit 


paid him by M. Boyer d Agen, in the autumn of 
1891, something of what was in his mind as the 
Irish chief was carried to his grave. 

Death, indeed, makes many things plain. 
When such a man as Parnell passes, says 
one who knew him, all the infirmities of life 
fall off, and only his originality and greatness 
remain. Then it becomes a marvel that the 
multitude of rats has been the undoing of the 
lion. 1 In the Cardinal s full recognition of the 
life s work of the dead, there are surely traces of 
a reconsideration of that verdict which had, two 
years earlier, concurred in his repudiation. It 
was not, he told his visitor, for a priest to pro 
nounce judgment on the political ground of Home 
Rule. What a priest had a right to recognise 
was that, a Protestant by birth, Parnell had 
ever remained an Irishman, and in working for 
the emancipation of Ireland had not separated 
religion from the land. Others, in the pages 
reserved in the history of national vindications 
for Ireland s great patriot and England s victim, 
would tell of the good he had done. A priest 
might point out, in praise of the leader of a 
cause, the harm he had not done. He had 
never divided Irish religion from Irish politics. 

1 A Memory of Parnell. R. B. Cunninghame Graham. 


Fighting for the independence of the land, he 
had safeguarded Catholic independence. Irre 
proachable in his politics, he was said to have 
failed personally. England had declared it by 
her judges and proved it before her tribunals. 
In that declaration and in those tribunals Cath 
olics had nothing to gainsay. Irish Catholics 
might salute with respect the honoured remains 
of a man who had loved his country until death. 
A day would come when, sunk in religious con 
flict, that country would understand the statesman 
it had lost in the person of Parnell. 1 

1 The Cardinal died before there had been time for him to 
correct, as he had promised, the proofs of M. Boyer d Agen s 
account of the conversation. It must therefore remain, in a sense, 


The End Approaching Farewells The Cardinal s Jubilee 
Congratulations Last Months Death His Funeral. 

THE end of the long life was approaching ; the 
Cardinal s work was soon to be over. Ten years 
earlier he had already looked upon the night as at 
hand, and had prepared a paper, left for post 
humous publication, in which he in some sort 
took his last leave of his clerical subordinates. 
Moved at that date to anger by the virulence of 
certain newspaper attacks of which he had been 
the object, it had been the desire of many of his 
loyal clergy to present him with an address ex 
pressive of their indignation, and though the plan 
was not carried into effect, the document drawn 
up by the Cardinal was of the character of a reply 
to the personal and offensive insinuations of the 
press ; made, not to the hostile public, but to 
those associated with him in his work, whose 
brotherly affection had opened both his lips and 
his heart. Never communicated during his life 
time to those to whom it was addressed, it con- 



tained his farewell to them, and belongs, as such, 
to this last stage of his career. 

Reviewing his past, and entering into an ex 
planation of facts misrepresented or open to mis 
representation, he concluded by a confession of 
inevitable mistakes, and craved forgiveness from 
God and man. It cannot be that in a life so 
active, so public, and so various, for more than 
forty years, I have not acted rashly, hastily, un 
wisely. But I have endeavoured to have a con 
science without offence towards God and towards 
man. In these thirty years, and above all in the 
last sixteen, you must have much to forgive. 
There is only one thing of which I feel that I can 
say I am innocent. I have never consciously or 
intentionally wronged any one. What I may un 
consciously or unintentionally have done I dare 
not say. I ask forgiveness of God and of you. I 
thank you from my heart for the words of affection 
which have drawn all this from me. 

It was a premature leave-taking. When the 
paper was written ten long years more remained 
before the Cardinal was to lay down his work. 
But now the end could not be far off; and as he 
looked on, his soul was often troubled and anxious. 
Conscious as he must have been that the position 
he had rilled in the life of the English nation was 


in a sense unparalleled, he could scarcely fail to 
be solicitous concerning the future, when he would 
be no longer at hand to pilot the ship. Who would 
be charged with the duty of carrying on the work 
he had begun ? How would that work prosper in 
other hands ? 

As before, the private notes belonging to those 
last months admit the reader to his confidence. 
In the loneliness scarcely separable from the old 
age of a childless priest, he recalled the past, and 
made his forecasts of the future. As early as 
1888, illness and increasing age and weakness had 
warned him of the growing uncertainty of his 
tenure on life. How slight a push/ he then 
wrote, will send an old man over into sleep. 
His days were now it was with him a favourite 
simile a tempus clausum^ a slowing into the 
terminus. Tenacious as he was of retaining his 
place at the helm, the thought would sometimes 
obtrude itself that, released from the responsi 
bilities attaching to his great position, he would 
be more at rest ; but it did not take permanent 
hold on him, and the hope that he would die ( on 
the field and in harness, was a truer expression of 
his normal condition of mind. Yet the end, like 
the skull in the cell of an anchorite, was ever 
before him. I feel I may be called at any 


moment/ he wrote on the last day of 1888. . . . 
I count upon nothing but the day ... it is so 
small a thing that would put life out. . . . My 
active life is over. Again, in the following April, 
I hope that a lasting work has been left at least 
in London. . . . My only contacts with the world 
have been public and for work, and especially for 
the poor and the people. Looking back, I am 
conscious how little I have done, partly from want 
of courage, partly from over-caution. And yet 
caution is not cowardice/ 

When congratulations poured in upon him at 
the completion of his eightieth year, his sister, 
thirteen years older, sent him a singular note of 
warning. Not by the length of a man s days but 
by how they were spent, she reminded him, he 
would be judged. Gently and humbly the Car 
dinal accepted the admonition. 

* I never forget that/ he observed. And yet 
what I have done is nothing, and I go empty- 
handed to my Redeemer/ 

A final entry in the diary wherein his reminis 
cences, views, opinions, hopes, and forecasts are 
registered, bears the date November 9, 1890, and 
fitly closes the record of his labours. 

I remember/ he wrote, looking back over the 
long years dividing the Archdeacon of Chichester 


from the Cardinal Archbishop of Westminster, I 
remember how often I have said that my chief 
sacrifice in becoming Catholic was " that I ceased 
to work for the people of England, and had 
thenceforward to work for the Irish occupation 
in England." Strangely, all this is reversed. If 
I had not become Catholic I could never have 
worked for the people of England, as in the last 
year they think I have worked for them. Angli 
canism would have fettered me. The liberty of 
truth and of the church has lifted me above all 
dependence and limitations. This seems like the 
latter end of Job, greater than the beginning. I 
hope it is not the condemnation that all men speak 
well of me. 

If there is a note of conscious victory in the 
words, few will grudge the Cardinal his sense of a 
work accomplished, a triumph achieved. The 
quiet and thankful acknowledgment of hard-won 
success closes the pages of self-revelation which, 
more than the cold criticism of strangers, the 
reluctant commendation of a biographer, the 
panegyrics of friends, or the dispraise of oppon 
ents, place the writer before us. 

Six months earlier, his Silver Jubilee as Arch 
bishop of Westminster had been celebrated, men 
of all creeds and classes joining in their congratu- 


lations. The tokens of appreciation, admiration, 
and affection took various forms. In heading a 
deputation entrusted with a sum of money 
designed to remove or lighten the debt upon the 
Pro-Cathedral, Lord Ripon made special reference 
to the social services rendered by the Cardinal, 
I hope, he said, it will not be out of accord with 
the sentiments of those whom I have the honour 
to represent, if I venture to say with how much 
pride my fellow Catholics regard the course which 
your Eminence has taken with respect to popular 
and especially social questions in this country. 
The position acquired by his co-religionists in 
public life was, the speaker added, not only due 
to the dying out of prejudice, but also in a large 
degree to the course the Cardinal had pursued. 

Following upon the congratulations of the 
convert statesman to the convert Cardinal, came 
a second deputation, when a large sum of money 
collected as a personal gift was presented by the 
Duke of Norfolk. In acknowledging it the 
Cardinal referred to a like offering made to him 
on his elevation to the Cardinalate. On that 
occasion, he said lightly, a friendly suspicion of 
his bad habits had been entertained, and he had 
been made to promise not to spend it. He had 
kept his word, giving it over at once for the 


mensa of the Archbishop of Westminster. c I do 
not complain/ he said, of the suspicion as a rash 
judgment. Much has passed through my hands 
in these five and twenty years. Nothing has 
stayed under this roof. All has gone into the 
work which has been entrusted to me. No such 
stipulations, however, had accompanied the present 
gift, and he proceeded to state his intentions with 
regard to it. His desire was to die, as a priest 
ought, without money and without debts. As 
that time could not be far off, he made his will in 
procinctu y as it was called, girded for battle as a 
soldier going into the fray; and he gave an 
account of the objects to which the money would 
be devoted. Other tributes were applied to other 
works of charity, a sum presented by the Trades 
Union being used to found a bed at the London 
Hospital. But of the events marking this June, 
the most interesting, to us who read of it in the 
account of an eye-witness, 1 is the scene when a 
deputation of Dockers came to present the con 
gratulations of their comrades to the man who 
had championed their cause. Kneeling one and 
all, whatever their faith or their unfaith, for his 
blessing, they presented their address, with 160, 
collected chiefly in pence. It was a tribute that 

1 Daily Chronicle. 


might well stir his heart. It did. * Think of it ! 
he whispered brokenly to one who stood near, as 
he held the illuminated sheet in his trembling 
hands how can I thank them? then, stop, 
stop, he said as the spokesman would have begun 
his speech ; we are not all seated/ himself remain 
ing standing until his old servant had fetched a 
sufficient number of chairs to accommodate those 
of his visitors who exceeded the thirty for whom 
preparation had been made. 

Yet another presentation in honour of his 
Jubilee, though not taking place till some months 
later, was made by the Jewish community of 
London. Some ten years earlier, at the time of 
the Russian persecution, a delegation had waited 
upon him with the object of obtaining his sym 
pathy and soliciting his aid on behalf of the 
victims. Eagerly he had promised both. 

You ask my protection, my sympathy, my 
help, he had answered. . . . As a priest of God I 
will contend for you. All my strength is enlisted 
on your behalf. 

He had kept his word. And now the acting 
Chief Rabbi, Dr. Adler, on behalf of his brethren 
of Hebrew blood and faith, came to offer their 
homage, as Englishmen and as Jews, to one of 
England s most distinguished sons. As English- 


men, it was rendered to the man who had 
laboured with unflagging zeal and signal success 
for the promotion of religious education ; had 
proved the staunchest friend of the toiler ; and 
had given a sadly needed impulse to the spread 
of charity and the union of hearts. As Jews, 
belonging to a nation never charged amongst its 
failings with ingratitude, the name of Cardinal 
Manning, said Dr. Adler, would ever, in virtue of 
what he had done for the victims of persecution, 
rank foremost in the annals of their race. 

The note of cordial and brotherly appreciation 
was echoed in the Cardinal s response. After 
making allusion to the example of generosity and 
efficiency set by the Jewish community in their 
care of the sick, the poor, and children, * I should 
not be true to my own faith/ he went on to say, 
* if I did not venerate yours. There are, I believe, 
only three indestructible elements in the history 
of man the people and faith of Israel, the 
Catholic Church, sprung from it, and the world 
which has persecuted both. For the rest, all who 
were called Christian were not Christian all were 
not of Israel who were called Israelites. Dark 
and terrible deeds had been done of which Israel, 
as a people, was guiltless ; misdeeds had been com 
mitted by which the Catholic church was unstained. 


In England equality happily prevailed ; and Jews, 
sharing her strength, added to it. It was not thus 
in other lands. Men became what their rulers 
made them. Penal codes rendered loyal men 
disloyal, social vexations generated animosities 
that crushed the weak and stung men to madness. 
And the Cardinal ended by wishing all grace and 
blessing to his guests and their homes. 

As the end drew near and his activities were 
necessarily limited, the Cardinal still continued to 
labour, if not by spoken word, by his pen ; the last 
year being marked by two contributions to peri 
odical literature, the one a paper on Darkest 
England, the other dealing, in the Contemporary 
Review^ with child labour. A description of the 
fashion in which his days were spent, supplied by 
himself not more than seven months before his 
death, shows that the long habit of toil remained 

Each morning, he said, brought a multitude of 
letters, opened by himself, of which many received 
an answer in his own hand, the rest keeping two 
secretaries busy. He had a long day, rising at 
seven, dining at half past one, having tea at seven, 
and often not going to rest till past eleven, after a 
day filled with work. From active labour he 
was inevitably debarred. Calling at Archbishop s 


House some time in 1890, with the object of 
inducing him if possible to preside at a great 
demonstration in favour of the purification of 
music halls, Archdeacon Farrar had found him 
compelled to decline, though from no lack of 
sympathy or readiness to help. The Bishop of 
London who in the end consented to occupy the 
chair was hesitating as to the wisdom of doing 
so. Save on the score of health, the Cardinal did 
not hesitate for a moment. But health forbade. 

Whatever reason the Bishop of London has 
for hesitating, he told the Archdeacon, there are 
eighty reasons why I should not go. When a 
man passes fourscore years he must obey his 
doctor s orders/ 

Old as he was, it was hard to realise that his 
days of active service were over. 

I travel no more upon the earth/ he told M. 
Felix de Breux, when invited by the Society of 
Social and Political Science to give a conference 
at Brussels. But M. de Breux afterwards con 
fessed that he had attached little importance to 
the words, so full of the future had he but lately 
found him. His interest in it continuing so keen, 
it was difficult to grasp the fact that it must be, 
in the order of nature, a future with which he had 
personally little concern. 


If he could no longer go forth to his work, as 
in former days, he was as ready as ever to wel 
come it at home. Nor had his personal attraction 
and influence lessened. He could have sat with 
the Cardinal talking all night, said a stevedore 
once a member of the Dockers Strike Committee 
who passed an evening with him in the February 
before he died. The conversation had turned 
upon matters interesting to both the condition 
of the Dock labourers and the result of their strike, 
with the question of strikes in general, and what 
was to be gained by them. When the guest took 
leave the Cardinal insisting on personally escort 
ing him to the stairs, lest he should lose his way 
in the great house a lasting effect had been 
produced. A man of avowedly little or no religion, 
the impression left upon the visitor by that 
evening s talk was not quickly effaced, and had 
kindled in him the desire to turn his life to better 

Attendance at one public function the Cardinal 
could not forego ; and in the August of this last 
year he was present at the great annual festival of 
the League of the Cross, driving down for the 
purpose to the Crystal Palace. His temperance 
work lay very close to his heart, and many and 
anxious were his forecasts concerning its future. 



Public affairs too, domestic and foreign, con 
tinued to make good their claim upon his 
attention. To the October of this last year 
belongs the visit from M. Boyer d Agen, of which 
mention has been already made. It was upon 
the clerical question in France that M. d Agen 
had desired to obtain in the first place the 
opinion of the English Cardinal. Would the 
Church become republican, or would it not? 
The French Bishops having suspended their reply 
to this crucial question, it had occurred to him 
that Paris might possibly be reached through 
London, and the Archeveche in the rue de 
Grenelle by way of Archbishop s House, West 

The autumn afternoon was closing in when 
d Agen entered the Cardinal s presence ; and as 
he looked at the old man leaning back in his 
chair of red and gold, his emaciated figure lost in 
the heavy folds of his cassock, it seemed to the 
stranger that he was gazing at a shadow clad 
in black and crimson. Frail though his body 
might be, he was prepared to discuss the questions 
of the hour with all his old vigour. As to the 
policy best to be pursued by the French epis 
copate, he delivered his opinion with character 
istic absence of hesitation. The policies under 


consideration might be many, one only would 
prevail that inspired and confirmed by Leo xin. 
to adhere, that is, to the form of every legally 
constituted government, making reservation as to 
the men by whom it was represented. This was 
the policy of Cardinal Lavigerie ; who, without 
taking the part of the Republic, had declared 
against hostility towards it. 

On the Italian question he was also ready to 
give his opinion. His conviction that the taking 
of Rome had been a legalised robbery was no less 
strong than in former days. The Pope s position 
was in his eyes intolerable, and a standing menace 
to European peace. But he had no sympathy 
with partisan extravagances, such as had been 
lately perpetrated in Rome, where the cry of 
A bas le roi> raised by three young Frenchmen, 
had brought Italy and France to the verge of 
war. Est ce en conspuant Victor Emmanuel 
qu on pense acclamer Leon xill. ? he asked con 
temptuously. Should the Pope s position be 
rendered still more insupportable by a gamin- 
eriet It must be left to time to modify or 
destroy the anti-papal will of Italy. 

Turning to secular affairs in France, he deplored 
in particular the absence of a right of public 
meeting, and of freedom in kindred matters. 


The lack of this freedom appeared indeed to him 
the most alarming feature of French legislation. 
In England, possessing the power of free election, 
the elector was above the member of the Govern 
ment. Here, politics were an acquired science; 
in France they were nothing but an improvisation. 
All for the people and by the people, was the 
fundamental principle of a great republic. And 
he gave his blessing for a free France, and for 
those rights of meeting and association that she 
must at all costs vindicate. 

Whilst public questions retained their full in 
terest for him, personal criticism had not lost its 
importance. * Certes on m attaqueront, he wrote 
in the October of his last year, requesting that 
some numbers of the Figaro should be sent him ; 
Je voudrais voir les assauts. The time was at 
hand when the attacks of enemies, like the com 
mendations of friends, would have no power to 
move him. 

Early in 1892 came the end, preceded by no 
long or painful failure: finding him, as he had 
desired, in harness, though not unexpectant of 
the release which was at hand. 

Thank you, he said when an inquiry had 
been made concerning his health, I am quietly 
slowing into the station. Nevertheless, though 

THE END 245 

looking calmly forward to the inevitable end, his 
daily life was carried on as if no great crisis was 
at hand, nor had even trifles lost their power to 
interest him. 

Have I grown as old as all that ? he asked, as 
he looked at a portrait that was being painted of 
him during these last days, adding an injunction 
that these rags the old cassock he wore 
should not be depicted. To the last, too, he 
continued the assertion of his political creed. 
Discussing some current topic with Archbishop 
Benson at Marlborough House the preceding 
year, he had avowed himself a Radical, employ 
ing half in jest the term applied to him by his 
opponents ; and only a few days before his death 
he again made use of it. 

We are honest Radicals he and I, he told an 
Irish priest, as he charged him with a message of 
affectionate remembrance to Archbishop Croke. 

No severe illness warned the outside world of 
the approaching end; but on January 14, London 
learnt that he was gone. Early that morning 
he passed in peace and quietness away. With 
out haste or hurry he had set out on the last 

I have laid my burden down, he said a day or 
two earlier; and again, approached on matters of 


business, he intimated that the time was at length 
come for it to pass into other hands. No/ he 
said, my work is done. 

On January I3th, in the small scantily furnished 
bedroom he occupied at the top of his great house, 
and lying pontifically clothed on his pallet bed, he 
made his final profession of faith. 

* Opus meum consummatum est, he said later 
that evening. A few hours afterwards he had 
passed away. 

The city mourned him, rich and poor paying 
him equal honour. Death, the great reconciler, 
would have brought oblivion of all differences of 
judgment, divergences of opinion, even had not 
time been beforehand in that matter. But it 
was perhaps amongst the poor that regret was 
keenest. He had been the poor man s Cardinal. 

Everywhere meetings were held as the news 
went abroad, to express the sense of loss on the 
part of the labouring portion of the community. 
Resolutions of regret were passed by the Millwall 
Branch of the Dock, Wharf, and Riverside Union 
who declared him endeared to the heart of 
every dock worker by the Barge Builders Trade 
Union, the Gas Workers Union, the Sailors and 
Firemen s Union, the Carpenters and Joiners 
Societies and others ; and at a crowded meeting 


of delegates to the London Trades Council in 
Farringdon Street, the keen sense of irreparable 
loss which had been suffered by the death of 
Henry Edward, Cardinal Archbishop of West 
minster, was expressed. By his tender sympathy 
for the suffering, his fearless advocacy of justice, 
especially for the poor, and by his persistent 
denunciation of the oppression of the workers, he 
has endeared his memory to the hearts of every 
true friend of labour. 

In Poplar, where the memory of his recent 
intervention as peacemaker was still fresh, Mr. 
Sydney Buxton spoke of the place he had filled 
in the hearts of the toiling masses. Whilst every 
one knew, he said, how the Cardinal had laboured 
at the time of the great strike, only a few were 
aware how much had been done by him, modestly, 
privately for he hated publicity, except when 
it was essential to success to prevent disputes 
from culminating in strikes. His influence for 
peace was enormous, and remained so till his 

Nor was regret confined to his own country. 
* The unhappy have lost their friend/ wrote some 
one to the Figaro ; and the unhappy are limited to 
no single race or blood. 

As he lay in state at Westminster, every 


class, every creed, every party, united in doing 
him homage. It had been determined that none 
should be refused access to the Cardinal, dead, to 
whom, living, his doors had ever been open : and 
for three days the people of London his own 
flock, mostly Irish, the English working men who 
had learnt to love and reverence him, and others 
of every station in life moved in single file to, it is 
said, the number of 100,000 through the temporary 
chapel where he had been placed. At first the 
services of police constables had been called in to 
keep order, but afterwards his own Guards of the 
League of the Cross were permitted to replace 
them, and, wearing their green sashes as badges 
of office, marshalled the throng as it passed in 
and out of their master s presence. 

The scene that London witnessed/ wrote a 
secular review, when the great Cardinal of the 
common people lay in state, holding as it were 
a last audience to which all were welcome, has 
had no parallel in our time as a popular tribute 
to the incarnation of a great spiritual and moral 

* He will walk through purgatory like a King, 
said one of his own poor, as she looked her last 
upon him. 

The funeral was again the occasion of a demon- 


stration of an unusual character. It was not only 
a religious it was a national ceremony. March 
ing with their flags and banners, all those public 
bodies who wished thus to assert their right to 
a share in the mourning for the Cardinal democrat 
took part, as the dead would have desired, in 
the procession. The League of the Cross 
his special creation was represented by 16,000 
men, with the United Kingdon Alliance, the 
National League, the Trades Unions of London, 
the Dockers Societies, the Amalgamated Society 
of Stevedores, the Order of Good Templars, the 
Federation of Trades and Labour Unions, and the 
Universal Mercy Band Movement. 

As the great procession proceeded along the 
four miles lying between the Brompton Oratory 
and Kensal Green, the streets were lined with 
masses of spectators, gathered to testify their love 
and respect for the friend of the poor, as he was 
carried to his grave. It was an entire people/ 
says M. de Pressense, the people of toil, of misery, 
and of suffering, who rose up to mourn a hero of 

Remember his name as a blessing the words 
in use amongst the Hebrew people when one of 
its heroes has passed away were spoken in a New 


York synagogue, as the preacher reminded his 
hearers of the friend of their race who was gone. 
As a blessing the name of the Cardinal Democrat 
will also be remembered amongst those of his own 
nation and blood. 



Adler, Dr. , Acting Chief Rabbi, 

237, 238 
Agricultural Labourers Union, 


Alliance News, The, quoted, 93 
American Catholic Quarterly, 

The, article in, 183-5 
Anne s, St., Spitalfields, 98 
Aquinas, St. Thomas, 12 
Arch, Mr., 66 
Augustine, St. , quoted, III 

Barry, Canon William, quoted, 


Baunard, Monseigneur, 164 
Benson, Dr., Archbishop of 

Canterbury, 211, 245 
Booth, General, 101, 169-173 
Boulanger, General, 46 
Boulton, Mr., 202, 219, 220 
Boyer d Agen, M., 228, 242-4 
Bradlaugh, Mr., 66 
Brassey, Lord, 203 
Breux, M. Felix de, 240 
British and Foreign Anti-Slavery 

Society, 74 

Brooklyn Review, The, 151 
Brunetiere, M., quoted, 193 
Burns, Dr. Dawson, 89, 90, 91, 

92, 172, 173 

Burns, Mr. John, 20, 203-9, 212, 
213, 215, 217, 218, 219, 221, 


Butler, Father, 45 

Buxton, Mr. Sydney, 203-5, 214, 


Cardwell, Mr. , Manning s letter 

to, 114 
Cashel, Dr. Croke, Archbishop 

of, I37> 245 
Champion, Mr. Henry, 201, 205, 

210, 215 

Clerkenwell Green, Meeting on, 


Clifford, Sir Charles, 31 
Compensation Clauses, 93 
Cromwell, Oliver, 166 
Crystal Palace, Temperance 

Meetings at, 99, 241 
Cullen, Cardinal, 59 


Darboy, Monseigneur, Arch 
bishop of Paris, 65, 82 
Davitt, Michael, 151 
Delane, Mr., 59 
Delavan, Mr. Edward, 90 
Dignity and Rights of Labour, 


Dilke, Sir Charles, 66 
Disraeli, Mr., 59, 143, 146 
Dockers Strike, The, 195 seq. 


Farrar, Archdeacon, 145, 240 
Fenianism, 120, 123 
Figaro, The, 177, 244, 247 



Garibaldi ; his visit to England, 

George, Henry, 151, 152, 153, 


Gibbons, Cardinal, 179, 180 
Gladstone, Rt. Hon. William, 

57 seq., 126-128, 225, 226 
Grey, Lord, Manning s letter to, 

120 seq. 
Grote, ii 


Harmel, M., 188 

Hazlitt, quoted, no 

Holland, Canon Scott, quoted, 

13, 14 

Hope, James, 56 
Housing of the Poor, Royal 

Commission, 75 

Irish Affairs, 119 seq. 
Irish University Bill, 58, 59 
Irish Land League, 74 
International Prison Congress, 

Jessel, Sir George, 79 
Jubilee, The Cardinal s Silver, 
234 seq. 


Knights of Labour, The, 180, 
198, 199 

Lamennais, 186 
Lavigerie, Cardinal, 243 
League of the Cross, 94, 97 seq. , 


Lemire, The Abbe, 187 
Leo XIIL, Pope, 4, 116, 125, 

138, 185, 190-4, 243 
Lubbock, Sir John, 203, 214 
Lusk, Sir Andrew, 203 
Lyceum, The, quoted, 139, 140 


Macaulay, Lord, 42 
M Carthy, Mr. Justin, 226 
Mann, Mr. Tom, 145, 205 
Manning, Henry Edward ; his 
special work, 1-5 ; his posi 
tion, 5 ; views and opinions, 
6 seq ; birth and training, IO ; 
Archbishop of Westminster, 
17 ; previous work, 21-25 5 
educational work, 27-38 ; his 
methods, 39, and spirit, 41 ; 
loneliness, 43 ; aspirations for 
his flock, 48; ideals, 51, 52; 
self-confidence, 53, 54; breach 
with Mr. Gladstone, 56-64; 
enters upon social work, 64 ; 
lectures at Leeds, 67 72 ; 
varied labours, 73, 76 ; the 
Cardinalate, 77 ; financial 
position, 8 1 -86; Temperance 
work, 87-96 ; founds the 
League of the Cross, 97 ; 
early and late views on the 
Temporal Power Question, 
110-118; on the Irish Ques 
tion, 119; letter to Lord 
Grey, 120-123; changed opin 
ions, 127 ; a Home Ruler, 
129; Mgr. Persico s mission, 
132 ; Manning s popularity in 
Ireland, 139; increasing age, 
141 ; different views of him, 
143-146; political neutrality, 
147 ; visitors at his house, 
148-153; the Social Purity 
Crusade, 154-159; Trafalgar 
Square Riot, 160 ; his con 
demnation of the Government, 
161, 162; later writings, 163; 
breadth of spirit, 165 ; views 
on the Salvation Army, 169- 
173 ; pleads for the worthless, 
!73> J 745 denies that he is a 
Socialist, 176 ; intervenes on 
behalf of the Knights of 
Labour, 178, 179, 180 ; at 
tacked by The Times, 181 ; 



his reply, 182; the Law of 
Nature, 183-185; his influ 
ence at the Vatican, 185, 186; 
a visit from the Abbe Lemire, 
187; in communication with 
French Social Reformers, 188- 
190; the Pope s Encyclical on 
Labour, 191-194; intervenes 
in the Dockers Strike, 195- 
218; the Cardinal s Peace, 
219; conduct on the Irish 
split, 222-227 his tribute to 
Mr. Parnell, 228, 229 ; old 
age, 230-233 ; Silver Jubilee, 
2 34 2 39 > l ast months, 241 ; 
death, 245 ; general mourning, 
246 ; funeral, 249 

Mason, Canon, 211 note 

Mathew, Father, 94, 97 

Mayor, The Lord, 203, 205, 
211, 212, 214, 217, 218, 219 

Morley, The Rt. Hon. John, 
quoted, 225 

Mullois, The Abbe, 168 

Mun, The Comte de, 190 

Mundella, Mr., 66 


Newdegate, Mr., 78 
Newman, Cardinal, 61 
Norfolk, Duke of, 83 seq. , 235 
Norwood, Mr., 205 
Nottingham, Bishop of, 104 
Nouvelle Revue, quoted, 5, 186 


O Brien, Mr. William, 132 
Odgers, Mr., 66 
O Donoghue, The, 130 
O Reilly, Boyle, 40 
Oxford, Union Jubilee at, 77 
Ozanam. Frederic, 13 

Parnell, Charles Stewart, 128, 
129, 137, 138, 224-229 

Persico, Mgr., his mission, 132- 

Pius ix., Pope, 4, 116, 185 
Plan of Campaign, 132, 134 
Poplar, the Cardinal at, 214-216 
Pressense, M. F. de, 249 
Purcell, Mr. , frequently quoted 


Redmond, Mr. William, 130, 


Rescript, The Papal, 134-138 
Ripon, The Marquis of, 235 
Robertson, Rev. Frederick, 64 

Salisbury, Marquis of, 7 
Salvation Army, 101, 169-173 
Sandford, Sir H. Francis, 38 
Shaft esbury, Lord, 167 
Shop Hours League, etc., 75 
Simeoni, Cardinal, 186 
Social Purity Crusade, 154 seq. 
Socialism, the Cardinal disclaims, 

176, 177 

Society of Arts, 74 
Standard, quoted, 102 
State-directed Colonization, 75 
Stead, Mr., 158 

Tablet, The, 103, 120, 183 

Talbot, Mgr., 30, 34-36, 55 

Temperance, Manning s Tem 
perance work, 87 seq. 

Temple, Dr. , Bishop of London, 
203, 205, 211, 212, 240 

Temporal Power of the Pope, 
1 1 1 seq. 

Tillett, Mr. Ben., 3, 203-208, 
214, 215 

Times, The, 128, 133, 155, 181- 

Tocqueville, De, quoted, 2, 12, 


Tooke, ii 

Trafalgar Square Riot, 160, 161 

Trevelyan, Sir Charles, 66 




United Kingdom Alliance, 87- 

Vatican Council, 56 
Vatican Decrees, 58 
Victor Emmanuel, King, 243 


Walsh, Dr., Archbishop of Dub 
lin, 133, 138, 226 

Waugh, Rev. Benjamin, 27, 144 

Wesley, John, 170 

Whately, 11 

Wilberforce, Archdeacon, 56 

Wilberforce, Bishop, 23 

Wiseman, Cardinal, 30, 31, 79, 

Printed by T. and A. CONSTABLE, Printers to His Majesty 
at the Edinburgh University Press 



The cardinal democrat T32.